Plenary Indulgence
by Shinkshinkshink
Summary: A sequel to Beauty and the Berserker. The world is at war, Hawke and crew are fugitives, the Chantry nipping at their heels every step of the way. A pair of stowaways aboard Isabela's ship test the bounds of Hawke and Fenris' already fragile relationship, and Hawke finds that she hasn't quite had her fill of violent insurgency yet. Rated M for gore, smut and language.
1. Sitting Ducks

**The wait is finally over! Hope you all didn't miss me too much! I've been super busy with work and getting this story ready for you guys; designing the cover art, getting some chapters backlogged, sending them off to the beta. Yes! You read that correctly! I'm working with a beta this time around! None other than the massively talented strangegibbon! She has some wonderful DA2 stories written, so please check them out. As always your reviews and messages are always appreciated. Please let me know if there is something you want to see this time around. I have some fun surprises in store for Hawke & co, but I will always take good ideas under advisement. :D**

**-Shinkshinkshink**

**I have decided as an exercise for inspiration, I'll give my story a soundtrack. Periodically you will see songs listed at the beginning (or end) of a chapter that I think convey the mood of the scene. These songs are all on youtube if you feel like looking them up. If not, feel free to ignore them. I will not be offended. :) Once the final chapter is finished I will post the finished playlist.**

**"Then I shall wait." ****song: Bowery Electric - Lushlife**

**Fenris**

She was reading over his shoulder. She didn't think he was aware of her, but it was hard not to notice the sudden shift in light, her breath on his scalp, let alone the scraping of plate that followed wherever she went. A rogue Hawke was not. He was content to let her believe she was sneaky if it made her happy, however, so he continued reading, pretending obliviousness.

Finally she plopped down beside him on the bed and began drumming her fingers on the headboard impatiently. He finished the paragraph he was on and set the book aside. "Hello, Hawke." he sighed.

She grinned. "Hello, yourself."

"Did you need something?"

"I was just wondering about something earlier." she said. "Does your sword have a name?"

"Is there something wrong with 'Blade of Mercy'?"

"Yes. It's boring and unoriginal."

"My apologies." he said dryly.

"My father told me once that you should know your weapon like a lover. I have a name, why not your sword?"

"Ah. That explains the disturbing fixation Varric has with that crossbow of his." he said, amused. "Did you name your axe?"

"Her name is Happy."

He snorted, palming his face and shaking his head. "You are ridiculous, Hawke."

"So what about it?"

He considered it for a moment. He knew full well that she wouldn't let it go until he named the thing, so he said the first thing that came to mind. "Domina."

"What does it mean?"

"It means both 'mistress' and 'lover' in Arcanum. I think it's only appropriate, considering who it came from, and who wields it."

"Interesting choice." she smiled. "I like it."

"I am glad." he said. "Now, if there is nothing else..." He lifted his book. She curled up on the bed next to him and before long she had fallen fast asleep.

* * *

That was the last good memory he had of Kirkwall, of their home, before it was ripped away from them forever.

Hawke was not taking things well and understandably so. It had been over a year since the destruction of the Chantry. The Seekers were constantly dogging them and she still could not be convinced to leave the Free Marches. He and Bethany were the only ones she spoke to at length, and she never smiled any more. He missed that the most.

They'd taken residence up on Sundermount, hidden in plain sight. The Dalish had moved not long after the death of their Keeper but there were others there, mostly apostates in hiding.

Varric and Isabela were the only ones who ever ventured into the city for supplies. This time Varric had not returned so quickly and Fenris knew he'd been caught. If he did not show in another day they would have to leave without him, with or without Hawke's approval. Either way, it was long past time to move on.

She was using a branch to draw the Chantry in the dirt. When he approached she scribbled it out with the side of her foot.

"You cannot dwell on this forever," he said.

"Just watch me," she replied quietly, and started her drawing over. He knelt in front of her and took the stick from her hands. She frowned.

"I was using that."

"You were wallowing." he said. "Walk with me." He extended a hand toward her. She rolled her eyes and took it, rising to walk beside him.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"For a stroll."

"Why?"

"Do we need a reason? I thought we could talk."

"If this is about Varric, you can just stop while you're ahead. There's no way I'm leaving him behind."

"We may have to." She yanked her hand away and glared at him. "_But right now_ I just wanted to spend some time with you. Is that alright?"

She sighed dramatically and he reached for her hand again, entwining his fingers with hers. It hung there listlessly, not bothering to clasp his in return.

That was another thing that he'd lost. Hawke's affection had dwindled in the past year. She still slept beside him, sometimes snuggling into him for warmth, but that was the extent of it. She kissed back, but things never became heated. She said "I love you" but never said it first. Their sex life was nonexistent.

His heart broke the first time he tried to make love to her after the battle. He'd been overcome by desire when they were still standing and finally safe. Somewhere in the Bone Pits, obscured from the others by darkness alone, he pulled her into his arms. He needed to feel her, needed to know she was there, convince himself she was real and still living. His fingers had knitted themselves into her hair and his lips had met hers. Only...she didn't receive him. Didn't respond to his touch the way she should, the way she always did. "Hawke?" he had whispered, and she answered with a gasp and a sniff; she was trembling. He put his arms around her, but she squirmed out with a noise he recognized as horror. That had hurt more than he could say.

It didn't get much better, either. Weeks went by and she wouldn't touch him. He began to wonder if she still loved him at all. She said the words, but they sounded rehearsed. Frustrated and dejected, he started to sleep alone and he was crushed when she didn't even comment on his absence.

Then one night he had awoken to find her sitting by the fire, fiddling with the red sash around her wrist. He went to sit down beside her and stared into the flames, completely silent. _Whatever I am to her, I am still her friend._

The silence was pregnant with words unspoken, some better left that way so instead he had tossed a handful of dirt on the fire, making it crackle and spit angrily. She glanced over at him, opened her mouth to say something and he cocked his head to the side, urging her to speak her mind.

"Are we..?" she hesitated. "Do you still love me?"

"Always." he answered, without hesitation.

Then she had buried her face in his chest and cried, really cried for the first time since it happened.

"Talk to me, Hawke." he said, smudging a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"It's my fault." she said. "I could have stopped this. I could have helped him."

He clenched his fist at his side. Just the mention of the mage set his blood boiling. After everything Hawke had done, everything she'd given him, he had still betrayed her. And where was he now? He ran away the first chance he got, just as he always did, leaving their world crumbling around them.

"He was a lost cause," he said. It was the tamest thing he could manage.

And then when all her tears were gone, when she had taken the last hitching breath, she kissed him and there was no longer any doubt about how she felt. It was the first and last time she'd done that since they'd left Kirkwall. He happily reclaimed his place in her bedroll.

He learned to adapt to the new confines of their love, and to look for the tell-tale signs of her affection. The way she fiddled with her favor, the way she stole sideways glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking, the way she remained beside him until he woke up in the morning. Things were subtler now, he needed to read between the lines. He would endure for her, relishing every time her skin brushed against his, purposefully or otherwise. He would wait as long as he had to, even if that meant waiting forever.

A short, stocky figure made it's way toward them on their walk and Fenris breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the silhouette of Bianca's tiller materialize in the distance. When Varric caught sight of them he broke into a jog. When he caught up he hunched over, leaning on Hawke's shoulder for stability, heaved in some choking breaths. "I'm getting too old for this shit," he gasped finally.

"Where were you?" Hawke asked. "I was beginning to wonder if we'd have to send Isabela in after you."

"Making friends with the Chantry's bloodhound," he said. "By the way, the Seeker says 'hi.'"

"Were you followed?"

"Of course. Say what you will about the Chantry, they're not amateurs. Luckily for us, neither am I. I lost them a good ways back."

"Good." she said. Then after a lengthy pause "Varric, did you see..."

"No, Hawke. If I had, you'd be the first to know."

* * *

"It's out of the question," she shook her head violently.

"Hawke, it is not safe here any longer. It hasn't been for a long time. It is time to go." Fenris pleaded.

"I can protect us! I always have before, haven't I?"

"You are not invincible."

"I'm not helpless either."

"He isn't coming back, Hawke. The sooner you realize this, the sooner you can move on with your life."

"No."

"I miss you," he said and she recoiled as if he'd struck her. He immediately regretted saying it.

"The answer is no," she said quietly and stalked off.

"Venhedis!" he shouted, kicking a stone into the pond.

"Want to talk about it?"

Varric had proven himself a good friend over the last year. Despite being married to a crossbow, the dwarf seemed to know a thing or two about women. He was observant and resourceful, and Fenris was thankful for his company.

"She will not listen to reason."

"Let me go talk to her," he offered.

"If you enjoy wasting your time, be my guest," he said. "You may have noticed, Hawke is not especially talkative these days."

"She's distraught. I'll supply her with some grief counseling, the bottled kind, and we'll be on the open seas by the end of the week."

"It has been over a year, Varric. She has given up."

"Trust me, elf. I know what I'm doing."

"I hope you are right," he sighed at Varric's departing back.


	2. Playing With Fire

**Anders**

"Hey, Anders."

Lazarus pulled a low hanging branch up and out of the way as he ducked underneath. By the time Anders noticed it was too late to get out the way and it whipped him right in the face. He cursed. That was the third one that day.

"Anders?"

_**Why do you allow him to follow you?**_ asked Justice. _**The boy is an idiot.**_

"Aaanders!"

_I don't 'allow' him to do anything, he just does it. Besides, he's useless without me._

"Anders, oh Anders! Anders! Anders! Anders!"

**_He is obnoxious and distracting._**

_You can say that again._

"Hello! Anders! Can you hear me?"

**_So get rid of him._**

_Maker knows, I've tried._

"ANDERS!"

"What?!" he all but screamed.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No." he groaned.

"I could eat." Lazarus said.

Anders massaged the bridge of his nose. "We ate not two hours ago. How can you possibly be hungry again?"

"You're awfully grumpy today."

"I'm tired, Lazarus. And you keep hitting me with branches. There was a spider in that last one. It's probably crawling around in my breeches now, thanks to you."

Lazarus frowned and then his eyes darted off somewhere behind Anders. He raised his staff and before Anders could react he let loose a magnificent fireball that missed his ear by mere inches. A high-pitched squeak was heard and then a plop as a squirrel dropped from the tree to the ground. He fought to control Justice, who was trying to take over in self-defense.

"Holy Maker! What have I told you about doing that?!" Anders shrieked. "We're in the bloody forest, man! Do you want to burn the place to the ground?"

"Er, is the answer no?"

"The answer is always no, you idiot!" Lazarus made a face that reminded him of a dog with it's tail tucked between it's legs. _Pathetic_. He sighed. "Just don't let it happen again."

"We've got squirrel," he sing-songed.

"I hate you. I hate you so much."

* * *

He tried to remember the first time he had met Lazarus. Justice did not allow him to keep very many memories anymore, unless they somehow related to their struggle. This memory, as it happens, _was_ related.

The funny thing about the stories he'd heard of the battle was they always glossed over the chaos that unfolded afterward. Anders had been there - he'd seen it firsthand. The mages fleeing from the city in droves with nothing but the clothing on their backs, the women selling their bodies for food or protection, the children crying and sleeping on the cold, hard ground. Justice clawed at his insides.

Hawke had looked up at him mournfully, and he had no words for her. He prepared himself for swift retribution, deserved and - in a morbid way - welcome. Instead she vowed to save him, vowed to find a way to free him, vowed to protect him until she could no longer. That she could show such mercy after everything he had done...it was too much to bear. He stole away in the middle of the night, keeping to the shadows like the monster he was.

He wandered aimlessly until fatigue overtook him. He had been running and fighting all day so he didn't get very far. Judging by the scent of salt and the ambient sounds of waves, he was on the Wounded Coast and he slept where he fell, not caring about his well-being any longer. Death would be welcome after seeing that look in her eyes. Justice insisted there was still work to be done but he could not remember the last time he had a full night's sleep since he had first returned to Kirkwall.

He awoke to someone jabbing him repeatedly in the ribs with the end of a blunt object. He groaned and rolled over.

"Are you a zombie?" asked a voice.

"Go away," he grumbled.

"Oh excellent! I'd hate to have to set you on fire." the voice said cheerfully. "Although that's a lie. Hello there, serrah. My name is Lazarus and I'm..."

"Shhhh. Not now, Hawke. I'm sleeping."

"Hawke? No, no, you're saying it all wrong. It's pronounced 'Lazarus'. Lahhhhz-ERRRR-ussss. If it's that difficult for you, you can just call me Laz."

"Hm?" His eyes fluttered open and he was immediately greeted by the sight of a strange man just inches from his face. He recoiled in shock. "Gah! What in Andraste's name...who are you?"

Lazarus sighed. "I've told you three times now. I'm Lazarus."

"Oh, that explains everything!" he growled. He eyed the staff in the man's hand and received another jab in the gut. "Ow! What did you do that for?"

"Just checking." Lazarus shrugged.

"Checking for what?! What could you possibly be checking for?" Anders was becoming increasingly irritated and confused by the moment.

"Alright, I lied. I really just wanted to poke you again," he giggled like a little girl.

Anders hung his head. "What do you want from me?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Oh, right. I was wondering if maybe you had some water? I can trade. I've got fourteen rabbits in my pack."

"Fourteen? Why so many?" Anders asked.

"Watch this!" he said, pointing his staff at a nearby seagull and frying it in midair. It fell to the ground in an explosion of sand and feathers.

Anders shook his head. "I asked 'why' not 'how.'"

"Oh, well then I suppose the answer is 'because I wanted to.'"

"Here." he said gruffly, handing the man his waterskin. He watched with interest as he gulped the entire thing down. "So, are you from the Kirkwall circle?"

"Damn right." he said. "But not anymore, I'm a free man now. I'm going to light so many things on fire." He had a dreamy look on his face and Anders found himself vaguely worried about what was going on in his head at the moment.

"You're insane," he remarked eventually. It was more of an observation than an insult.

"No, I'm just enthusiastic about fire." The other mage replied, handing back the empty waterskin.

"Riiiight."

"Well, here's that rabbit I promised." A charred animal carcass landed in Anders' lap with a crunch.

"Er, thanks," he said, lifting it by a blackened ear and setting it to the side. He glanced up at Lazarus again, unsure if he was supposed to take him seriously. He'd heard of sheltered mages before but this seemed to be rather an extreme case.

Judging by the looks of him Anders guessed that he was in his early to mid-twenties. He was old enough to know better than to go around shooting fireballs willy-nilly, but he seemed young and reckless (or perhaps stupid) enough to not care. Mousey brown hair stuck up in sharp points all over his head, seeming to defy gravity and his lips appeared fixed into a crooked, goofy smile, but his brown eyes seemed to convey that he was smarter than he let on. Anders was unsurprised to see that there were flames embroidered into the sleeves of his black robe. _Tacky._

"And thank you for the water," he smiled. "Say, don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Probably not," he replied quickly. The last thing he needed was to be singled out as a terrorist by some lunatic. He didn't really care if he lived or died in the long term, but he preferred not to die by fire.

Lazarus squinted at him, unconvinced. "Wait a minute, I do know you! You're the one who blew up the Chantry! Anders right? Big fan!" He clapped Anders hard on the back and then opened his robe. "Will you sign my chest?"

"No! Maker, what's wrong with you?" Anders shielded his eyes from the disturbing image of Lazarus' naked torso.

"Mind if I tag along? I don't really have anywhere better to go."

"I'd prefer that you didn't," Anders said.

"But you didn't say no!" Lazarus beamed. "Let's be off then. Daylight's burning."

"What? No that's not what I..." Lazarus was grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, fine. Just...try not to get in the way."

Ander regretted a lot of things in his life. He could already tell that this was going to be another.


	3. The Blues

**Hey everyone! Hope you're all enjoying the holidays, whichever ones you celebrate. :) I have been super busy at work, but I have some chapters backlogged and almost ready to send to the beta. I've also started playing the Mass Effect series, since so many have suggested it, and it's all I really have energy for these days. Hopefully things will slow down soon. Sorry for the mopey Hawke, trying to establish a setting, things will pick up very soon, I promise. **

**-Shinkshinkshink **

**Hawke**

"I said no, already." Hawke lifted the bottle of whiskey to her lips before passing it back to him with a nod. She was thankful for the drink even if there were ulterior motives behind the gesture.

"Look, I know you want to find Anders, but..."

"But what, Varric? But he doesn't want to be found? But he's probably long gone by now? But he might be dead for all we know? But we're better off without him? You think I haven't considered all of that?"

"So why haven't we left yet?"

"Because I can't." she sighed.

"The Hawke I know can do anything."

"The Hawke you know is dead!" she shouted. Her voice echoed off the walls of the cave, the tone more harsh than she had meant it to be. "Just go on without me."

Varric shook his head. "You can't save everyone."

"So I shouldn't even try?"

"Friendships are like businesses, Hawke. You made a bad investment." She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted her. "And that's okay! It happens to the best of us. But you need to know when to cut your losses and move on."

"Justice did this to us, not Anders. Now he's somewhere out there thinking he hasn't got a friend in the world. I intend to prove him wrong."

"You aren't doing him any favors by handing us over to the Chantry," he said. "If you won't do it for yourself, do it for Sunshine and that elf of yours." He watched her eyes widen in dismay then she slumped against a wall, staring into space. It was the truth, and it hurt.

"You're right," she replied eventually.

"Sorry I had to go there."

"Thanks, Varric."

He nodded and left her with the bottle. Truthfully, she preferred drinking alone these days. Everyone else reminded her too much of what she'd lost, what she could still lose, especially when it came to Fenris.

She hated herself for treating him this way. He deserved happiness, deserved affection that she was frightened to give him. When he had stayed anyway, it made things even worse. She was terrified of losing him, so she pushed him away; it made no sense, but then again nothing really did anymore. Still, he refused to leave her side, refused to coddle her or pity her, didn't try to make her feel guilty for denying him, and that just made her feel unworthy of his attention.

As if her thoughts had summoned him he appeared before her, gaze fixed on his feet. "I apologize for what I said earlier," he murmured. "It was never my intention to make you feel guilt over your decision."

"Don't be, I'm the one who should be sorry." she sighed, heart breaking for him. "You shouldn't have to feel that you're walking on eggshells around me."

She'd said it so many times before she didn't even have to tell him the reason anymore, but he deserved better than that. "Perhaps being away from here will make things easier."

"I am certain it will," he said. "Take as long as you need, Hawke. I will be here when you are ready."

He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her his best smile, just a faint curl of his lips, but it was hers and hers alone. He did it often enough, now. More often than he used to, at least, but it always seemed to be more for her benefit than his. She placed her hand over his and he seemed pleasantly surprised by the gesture but said nothing, just gave her a little squeeze.

Just for a second she felt the overpowering desire to kiss him, to stop running and allow herself to be loved once again until the fear set in. Her body tensed and her heart raced and she wanted to run and hide instead. Fenris' expression changed to one of concern immediately so she turned away, gathered up her axe and went to practise her stances.

It was the only time she felt alive anymore. She could feel the heft of her axe, lose herself in the practiced movements, feel the ache in her muscles as she pushed her boundaries. Sometimes Fenris would watch, remarking on her posture or urging her on when she began to feel tired. Sometimes he would spar with her but he was always welcome to, no matter what mood she was in; she needed the practice.

Today she was by herself, and that was fine too. She could think clearer without all the distractions. Of course, 'thinking' these days usually involved a fair amount of brooding as well - funny how their roles had reversed. She was the emotionally stunted piece of work who couldn't move forward and Fenris was the one left waiting patiently for her to catch up. She hoped it wouldn't take three years for her to get over this.

She swung her axe, listening to it whistle as it sliced effortlessly through the cold mountain air. Maybe that was the problem. When was the last time she had actually felt challenged? Sure, sparring with Fenris was always a test of stamina but there wasn't any real danger involved. The times she did have to fight other opponents, usually raiders or templars who had discovered their camp, they never posed much of a threat and were easily disposed of.

The last time she had experienced a true rush of adrenaline was fighting the Knight Commander and that was so long ago she had almost forgotten what it was like to feel so alive. Instead she was holed up in the mountains in some kind of self-inflicted purgatory, trapping everyone she cared about in there with her.

This wasn't a new revelation; she had been toeing the line between boredom and crushing fear since day one, and the pointlessness of it all was not lost on her. Sometimes she wondered if some other woman had left the Gallows a year ago wearing her skin. She could only hope that leaving this place behind might bring even a little bit of herself back.

A butterfly with yellow and brown wings flew erratically in front of her, dipping and weaving in and out of the arcs of her axe. She tried to shoo it out of harm's way but it kept gravitating toward her swings until a swift chop cleaved it clean in half. _What a perfect metaphor for my life,_ she thought._ This is what happens to everything I have ever tried to protect._ The gossamer fine, broken wings fell softly to the ground, staring up at her accusingly, one more reminder of all those she failed to save. Carver, her mother, Anders, especially Anders. She had failed him in so many ways.

She would never share this with anyone, but up until then a part of her had been holding on to the misguided belief that she could perhaps atone for all those failures if only she could save Anders, set him back on the right path. Of course, logically she knew Varric was right, she couldn't and wouldn't save everyone, but she'd always felt responsible for those closest to her. That was just part of being a warrior, she guessed.

The sun was finally setting in a dazzling display of red, gold and violet. Hawke bent to gather the delicate remains of the butterfly and placed them in between the pages of a book she had in her pack. In memoriam, as Fenris would say.


	4. Skipping Stones

**Hawke has some epic brooding skills. I guess she did learn from the best. **

**Fenris**

The preparations for their departure were almost complete. Hawke would not comment any further on the matter and when asked refused to say where she wanted to go. Fenris suggested that they might return to Seere, thinking she would like the idea. She merely replied "whatever you like, Fenris" and continued sharpening her axe. She was even more distant than usual, if it were at all possible.

But no matter how determined she was to throw away everything they had built together, he wasn't about to let it go so easily. He was certain Seere would be good for her. She had loved it there, the colors and the spirited people, the way elven and Rivaini culture blended so seamlessly. She had been happy then, and all he wanted was to see that again so when Isabela asked where they were headed, he told her firmly.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had something planned. Something naughty, I hope. Hawke really needs to get laid."

"If only she were willing," he muttered under his breath. Thankfully Isabela didn't seem to catch it. "The Chantry doesn't have such a strong influence in Rivain and we enjoyed ourselves last time we were there. Why? Do you have a better idea?"

"Just curious. It almost sounded like you were planning on tying the knot."

Fenris squinted at her, unsure of whether she was being serious or not. It was no secret that he and Hawke's relationship was rocky at best; marriage was the last thing on his mind. He'd be content just to hear her laugh again. "That is not funny."

"Arguing constantly, no sex...you two already behave like a married couple so why not just make it official?"

"What Hawke and I do or don't do in private is none of your concern."

"Try not to make it so obvious then." She rolled her eyes and ignored the glare Fenris was giving her. "Anyway, we should be good to go by the end of the week. I had no trouble finding most of my old crew and replacing the others. The real problem is going to be getting to the docks unnoticed."

"I'll think of something," he answered. Isabela shrugged and sauntered off, leaving him to contemplate what she'd said.

It wasn't like he never thought about proposing to Hawke, he did, quite often actually. Even before they had left Kirkwall he had wondered what it would be like to settle down with her and live in quiet obscurity, away from magic and death. He knew that wasn't really an option for people like them; neither of them were meant for a life out of the fray. Even so, it was something to consider. He had to admit, there was something appealing about it.

But even if he could lay down his weapon, even if Hawke agreed to it as well, would it be a good idea? He still loved her and refused give up on their relationship, but this was not the Hawke he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Still, he was optimistic that this wasn't a permanent change. Perhaps all Hawke needed was a good enough reason to be herself again. It made him want to be that reason. He wanted to give her a new life to replace the one she'd lost, the one that had been stolen from her. He would have to think how best to go about it.

* * *

She was skipping stones by the pond. She was prone to boredom of late, but not enough to want to talk to the others and not enough to want to talk to him. There was a faraway look in her eyes that he knew was reserved for when she was agonizing over what had happened. She was so lost in her thoughts she scarcely noticed him approaching.

"Hawke?"

She eyed him sidelong, but said nothing, throwing another stone and cursing when it didn't skip. It was an act of defiance, as though her displeasure about leaving wasn't already abundantly clear.

"We will be ready to leave in four days."

Nothing. Another two stones skidded and plopped into the water with diminutive splashes.

"If the wind is good we should be in Seere in three weeks' time." No answer.

She sighed.

"Hawke?" He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and she turned toward him, raising an eyebrow at the intrusion. "I need you to try. For me."

She rolled her eyes irritably and walked away.

It was impossible to guess whether or not leaving the Free Marches would change anything, but even so they simply could not leave soon enough for Fenris.


	5. Mad Mad World

**Anders**

Anders backed slowly into a corner. They were surrounded. The templars' faces twisted and contorted until they became gruesome beasts with dripping fangs and horns and raw flesh, pink and oozing with pus. Eyes that were less man than monster stared back at him, glowing and unblinking. There was nowhere to run.

"Mages!" one growled, licking it's chops. Another got down on all fours, threw back its head and howled long and low, signaling the end of the hunt.

Justice took over and Anders was unsure whether it was by force or if he simply relinquished power in the face of danger. He raised Anders' staff, calling down a column of lightning.

"Oh my. Oh dear. Not this again." Lazarus said somewhere behind him.

"Get back, boy," said a voice that was not his own. He ignored the comment and focused the magical energy on a row of enemies. The templars let loose yelps of pain and the scent of burning flesh filled his nostrils.

"Anders..."

"Silence!" Justice said, charging his staff again. "Do not distract me!"

"I just thought you might want to know that there's actually no one there. Again."

Justice paused for a moment, considering Lazarus' words, and it was long enough for Anders to regain control. He fell forward onto his knees, his forehead resting flat against the ground.

"Oh good, you're back," observed the other mage.

Anders lifted his head and looked around him. Sure enough, there were no templars; he'd imagined everything. Everything except the lightning, of course, and the walls were now singed black and deeply scarred. This wasn't the first time and it was happening more and more frequently as time wore on, now almost every other day. He scratched his head, as though the templars were simply misplaced rather than an insane fabrication of his faulty brain.

Lazarus approached him, reaching out tentatively like he was trying to calm a wounded animal. "It is you, right Anders?" He asked in a very small voice.

Anders squeezed his eyes shut because suddenly the light had become blindingly bright. He could already feel the deep throbbing in the front of his head. These episodes were almost always followed by a cripplingly painful headache that was unresponsive to healing. "Yes, Lazarus, it's me."

Lazarus gave a visible sigh of relief. "Right. I'll fix dinner. You have a rest."

Anders nodded, stretching out on the bed. He pulled the blanket over his head and tried to go to sleep. A few hours later he would wake up and it would be as though nothing had ever happened.

* * *

There was really no good reason for Anders to have stayed in Kirkwall, and only one bad one. He knew he had no right to wonder about her whereabouts, but it seemed to be the only thing that mattered anymore. Living in constant fear of the Chantry and vigilantes seemed a fair start to the punishment he truly deserved. Maybe it was stupid, but he was not known for making good decisions.

He had returned to the Bone Pit not long after he'd run off in the first place, but they'd moved on already, and he couldn't begin to guess where. He went back to the city to confirm his fears, but Isabela's ship was still docked at the pier.

After that he jealously guarded the ship. He wasn't entirely sure why as he didn't know if he even wanted to rejoin her. It was true that none of her companions were stupid enough to try to take his life without her express consent (which she would, of course, never give), but it wouldn't stop Aveline, Donnic and Fenris from making him wish he was dead. Even Varric had given him some particularly chilly looks on the road out of Kirkwall. He would find no friends among Hawke's companions, no doubt about that, not that he was Messere Popular before he committed his act of terrorism.

Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that he really didn't have anywhere else to go. The Hawke Estate was a wreck and subject to frequent check-ins from the seeker order, his clinic was destroyed even before the Chantry explosion, Fenris' mansion was rubble, even if he had wanted to stay there. The Blooming Rose was completely decimated and he knew too many people at the Hanged Man; he didn't trust that Corff and Norah were above turning him in for a bit of coin. From what he'd heard, he had quite the bounty on his head. Isabela's ship was the only other logical option.

He'd only ever come close to being caught once, and that was by Isabela herself a week or so previously. He was sleeping when he heard the sound of boots coming up the gangplank and the sultry purr of her voice. He shook Lazarus awake, clamping his hand down over his mouth. He'd discovered early on that his pyromaniac companion had a tendency to snore at the worst possible times.

"Why are you making this so complicated?" she asked someone. From the sound of it, she was standing right outside the door. "Just take those barrels and put them down in the hold. That's really all there is to it." There was some muffled arguing for a moment. "That's quite enough lip out of you! Get the job done or I'll find someone else. You're pretty, but you can be replaced." The footsteps receded.  
It was hours and hours before he could no longer hear anyone on the ship. Lazarus and Anders sat in terror, afraid to sneeze or move for fear they'd be discovered. When all fell silent, they felt safe enough to eat some of the food they had saved.

"Hawke's finally leaving the Free Marches," Anders said to no one in particular.

Lazarus stopped violently scarfing down a squirrel haunch long enough to glance up at Anders with grease dripping down his chin. "We going with them?" he asked, although it sounded more like "Gwee goag wuffem?" since his mouth was full. A piece of meat flew out of his mouth and hit Anders in the face and he gave him a look of disgust in response.

"I can't imagine that would go over well." he said, wiping the food off his face. "I haven't decided."

"So...the Champion of Kirkwall, yeah?" he grinned. Anders rolled his eyes, he could already tell he didn't like where this conversation was headed. He hoped it wasn't somewhere crude, but then again, Lazarus didn't have much of a bent for raunchy humor. Anders guessed he was probably a virgin, never even been kissed, like most of the Circle mages he'd met in Kirkwall.

"What about her?" he growled in warning.

"I've heard she's pretty."

Anders gave a sigh of relief. "She is. Stunning actually, but more than that she's intelligent, charming, compassionate, sexy, strong, a demon in the sack...oh Maker, I could go on for days."

"She sounds like the ideal woman."

"She also has the temper of an ogre, and she looks silly when she cries, but I guess no one's perfect."

"I knew a girl like that once. Didn't even know I existed, but boy, could she shoot fire!"

"Why didn't you try to talk to her?"

"I did, once. It was a terrifically bad idea. I stuttered for a full minute. She must have thought I was having an aneurysm, but Maker bless the girl, she didn't say a single word. Finally I saw the futility in it. I lit the First Enchanter's robe on fire as a distraction and ran away."  
Anders held back his laughter. This kind of thing always baffled him, as he'd never had that much difficulty talking to the opposite sex. Besides, Lazarus was attractive in his own quirky, disheveled way. If he learned how to dress himself properly and ran a comb through his hair he might even be considered handsome. Leave it to the Circle to turn such a man into a gibbering idiot when it came to women. "What did Orsino do?"

"Gave me a look of utter incredulity and a very awkward lecture. All things considered, he was very understanding. I think his exact words were 'Lazarus, women are terrifying. I suggest you stick with what you know; lighting inanimate objects on fire.' So I did."

"And the templars?"

"They didn't see who did it, thank the Maker. They sure screamed about it, though, and that Cullen fellow was the loudest of them all. I wonder if he ever did get that chip off his shoulder..?"

"What happened with the girl?"

"It wasn't meant to be. She disappeared after the business with Meredith. I never even learned her name." He sighed. "Ah, but what's the use in crying about it now? The night is young and there are things to ignite."

"You really do have a one-track mind, you know."

"Fire is pretty." he shrugged.

"You are aware that there are other schools of magic besides elemental, right?"

"Pfft. Says the healer." Lazarus laughed riotously at his own joke, and Anders rolled his eyes. "No, I think I'll stick with pyromancy, thanks so much."

"Suit yourself, but you should know that there are some...rather enticing practical applications for Spirit Bolt. If you're the creative sort, that is."


	6. Closure

**Hi everyone! I'm across the country on a much needed vacation right now, but I haven't forgotten about you guys. Here's a short but important chapter. Hopefully it will tide you over while I settle some transitional difficulties, and with any luck it won't be a long wait. Enjoy. :)**

**"No More Excuses." Bear McCreary - Passacaglia**

**Hawke**

Hawke drew her cloak over her face to protect her cheeks from the chilly night air. She didn't like moving at night without her armor, but she did anyway at Fenris' behest. The moon was low and round, like a giant silver pendant suspended on a tangled chain of stars. It cast ominous shadows over the city streets, and that made her even more paranoid. Fenris squeezed her hand, and she chanced a glance back at him. He was giving her a smile of reassurance.

It was strange to be back in Kirkwall again. Lowtown was - for the most part - unchanged aside from the increase in homeless faces staring up at her. She didn't dare look them in the eyes, for fear of seeing someone she knew. Thugs and thieves haunted the streets, just as they always had, but there was strength in numbers and none of them gave them so much as a dirty look.

A rat scurried across the path in front of them, and then a loud crash followed. They stopped dead in their tracks. Every fiber of her being told her to run, and then a fat gray tom bounded after the vermin. The silence was broken by a chorus of sighs - nine of them, all at once - and it was so sudden that it seemed deafening.

They passed Gamlen's house and she wondered if he was inside sleeping or if he'd been in the Rose that day. Either way, she would never see him again. She knew her uncle well enough to know that he'd turn her in for the right price, or maybe even less than that. Even so, she wished him luck, wherever he was. Bethany gave the hovel a cursory glance and Hawke knew she was thinking the same thing.

It seemed like hours before they passed the Hanged Man. Hawke could hear the music coming from inside, and old habits made her want to go in and play a hand of Diamondback while nursing a mug of piss-water ale. Varric mumbled something under his breath, but Isabela didn't even bat an eye, perhaps because they were on their way to her true home now. Hawke wouldn't admit it, but she was beginning to think that being at sea again would be a fresh change of pace.

Finally they could see the docks, the darkened shapes of mast and sail outlined against the face of the swollen moon. A rush of memories raged through her mind, not all of them terrible. Here was the secret meeting place where Hawke had found Fenris' sword. There was where Hawke helped Isabela get her ship. Here was where Hawke and Fenris had emerged from the sea in not much more than their bare skin, dripping and freezing, and he had turned seven unique shades of pink when he found two dozen blinking faces staring back at him.

Off in the distance she heard a loud whoop, the signal that the coast was clear. She relaxed her jaw, taking one last look at the city. The cold, salty air licked at her cheeks as she realized the finality of it all, this walk. She could never return but for the first time in over a year she was not afraid of what was to come. This was closure, this was goodbye, this was a new beginning. This was all it took.

She gripped the hand that was holding hers tightly, lacing her fingers through his. Fenris turned ever-so-slightly to glance back at her, perhaps taken aback by the sudden and unexpected affection, but her face was veiled by her cloak and the night. The calloused pad of his thumb ran over the back of her hand in encouragement, so she returned the gesture. If only it wasn't so dark, if only he stopped to peek under her shroud, he would have seen her smiling.


	7. That Awkward Moment When

**Fenris**

"Squatters?! On my ship?! That's disgusting!" Isabela shouted. "What am I paying the port authority for if they can't even keep filthy vagrants off? And furthermore..."

"There was an unknown mage shooting lightning on your ship - recently, it seems - and you're concerned about cleanliness?" Fenris growled."What if the hull has been breached? Or worse, what if they are still here?"

"Well, we're not sinking and you're not glowing, so I guess we're fine."

"Is that meant to reassure me?"

"Oh, come off it. You're angrier about it than I am and it's my ship."

"And that concerns me."

She sighed. "Fine, if it will make you happy, I'll have my crew do a quick sweep of the hold. You can stop flaring your nostrils now."

He huffed and stalked away. He was tired and wanted to sleep, but he didn't feel comfortable in the cabin with unknown mages somewhere nearby. Magic was involved, he was sure of it. There was no other explanation for lightning striking inside. It had to have been recently, too. Probably within the last couple of hours considering the scent of ozone lingering in the room. Isabela's nonchalance was disconcerting.

The intruder left other clues to his existence, as well. The sheets were in disarray and animal bones were littered across the floor (probably from a rabbit or another small creature, judging by the shape and size) and the door had been slightly ajar when they'd first entered. How long ago had they been there? It seemed like they had just missed them by minutes.

And where was Hawke during all of this? They had been holding hands going up the gangplank, but somehow she slipped away without him noticing. That disturbed him, especially if there were dangerous intruders somewhere on the ship.

But there were other reasons for him wanting to see her. Something had happened on the way from Sundermount. Maybe it was just his imagination but Hawke almost seemed responsive. He never realized how much power she had over him until his heart surged at the thought of her simply holding his hand. In that moment, she could have knocked him over with a feather. He needed to find her, needed to know that he hadn't just imagined it.

He turned a corner and there she was, staring out onto the Waking Sea. She gave a plaintive sigh as he stepped toward her. He cursed under his breath, realizing his hopes were misplaced. She was just as pensive and isolated as before. His fists clenched at his sides with anger, not at Hawke, but at himself for being so foolishly optimistic. He'd been patient for so long, waiting for any kind of breakthrough only for one cruel, fleeting moment of false hope. He started to leave. She wouldn't want his company. He felt that anything he could say in this moment would only make things worse.

For a brief second he considered the idea that maybe it wasn't worth the agony for either of them. Even if Hawke could go back to her old self, it had been so long already. What if it was too late to pick up the pieces? They were only happy together for such a short period of time. Was he fooling himself into thinking there were pieces to pick up in the first place? Besides, she seemed to want to be alone. Maybe she would be happier without him or maybe it would be the perfect wake-up call.

But that was simply out of the question. Hawke needed him even if she refused to admit it. She had been there for him when he needed her, done so much for him. He could not abandon her now.

"Fenris?" she called. _Was that fondness in her voice?_ He wondered, but quickly dismissed the notion. His jaw tensed and he kept walking._ No, it is only more wishful thinking._

She pushed past him, moving to stand in his way. "Fenris."

"Hawke." he said tersely, crossing his arms.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

He cocked an eyebrow at her but nodded and gestured toward their cabin.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, but he couldn't find a comfortable position under her steady gaze. Even after all these years, Fenris still didn't know how to maintain eye contact in awkward situations. Someone had cleaned the bones off the floor, but the room still had a metallic scent and Fenris found it difficult to ignore. He couldn't concentrate.

She bit her lip. It was something she did when she was thinking...or aroused and it was another quirk of hers that drove him wild. As such, his mood was becoming angrier and hornier by the second, in almost equal parts. In her defense, he doubted it was intentional. Hawke did very few things that didn't have a strong effect on him in one way or another. He always tried to keep that in mind when the urge to punch something became imminent.

"Yes?"

She stared at her hands, worrying at the red cloth around her wrist, shifting from one foot to the other. That was another of her tells, Hawke was thinking of him, measuring her words. She was worried about what she was about to say. For whose sake, he did not know.

"Just say it, Hawke." he sighed.

She nodded and took a deep breath. "I release you." And she looked away.

Even in her melancholy, Hawke had always been direct and concrete with her words. He respected that about her, that he never had to decode the things she said, that she was honest and spoke her mind, that she didn't beat around the bush or talk in abstractions. 'I release you' was not something Hawke would say. It was nebulous and vague and could mean anything.

"I beg your pardon?"

She slumped against the wall. "I have held you prisoner to my moods for too long. You deserve better, so I release you."

"You are being dramatic." he decided. "Stop."

"I'm trying to do the right thing. It is over between us."

He furrowed his brow, more in confusion than anger. "No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

"No. I refuse to let you go."

"That isn't how it works, Fenris. I said we're through and we're through."

He laughed at her obstinance. "I don't care what you said. You are being ridiculous and stupid and I deny you. This discussion is over." He stalked toward the door, in a hurry to be away from this conversation.

"Don't you walk away from me!"

"I am not so foolish as to believe that you actually want me gone. If I did, I'd have left already. I know you well enough to see the conflict in your eyes."

"You see what you want to see."

"If I must wait another decade or more to touch you again, so be it, but I am going nowhere. Get used to it."

"You can't just..."

"I just did."

She sighed, perhaps seeing the futility in the argument. "I'm unworthy." she said softly.

In three quick steps, he crossed the room until he was standing over her and for just half a beat his markings flared with pale blue light. _Now_ he was angry. "_Fatua_!" He snapped. "This has never been about that. Why do you make it an issue now? You feel unworthy? Welcome to my world. When I met you, I was an escaped slave with nothing but a sword and stolen coin to my name. You made me the man I am now. I will always be in your debt, but I have bled much and well for this- for you. I have earned the right to call you mine. You are all I have in this world and if you think I will let you toss me aside then you are mistaken."

She was silent for a few moments, then she palmed her face, pushing her hair off her forehead. "I just want you to be happy."

"Then love me as only you can, Hawke. Make amends if you think it is necessary, but do not speak to me of worth. You cannot possibly fathom what you mean to me."

She winced, and he knew he'd said the wrong thing again.

"I...what I meant to say is..."

"Fenris, I love you." It was little more than a whisper in pitch, but it was everything to him. He could hear the dirty, raw grit underneath, the love and the want. His heart quaked at the sound of it.

The words brought him to his knees and suddenly his forehead was against hers and his breath was ragged with desire. "_Hawke_." he gasped. There was so much he wanted to say, but it was all he could manage. "_Hawke_."

"I'm so sorry." she said.

He wiped a tear off her cheek with a kiss. "Then do _not_ let it happen again." he said with the slightest of smiles.

"Never." And their lips finally met.

He immediately began tearing her clothes off, pulling her tunic over her head and spilling it on the floor in a puddle, then began working at her laces. His fingers were clumsy and out of practice and he intended to amend that. Her hands hooked themselves into the front of his leggings and were desperately trying to pull them down over his hips. He'd almost freed her from the soft breeches she was wearing when the door swung open.

"Shit." Varric said, seeing the state they were in.

Fenris jumped away from her like a startled cat, scrambling for blankets to cover the tumescent bulge in his leggings.

"Your timing is impeccable, dwarf." he groaned, noting that Varric was wide-eyed at the sight of Hawke's topless body. It irked him. "Stop drooling and state your business."

"We need you over by the brig, Fenris. Now. Or ten minutes ago."

Varric never called him by his name unless it was something important. "Can it wait?" he asked.

"If it could, you wouldn't be thinking about the rules of wallop right now."

"Point taken." he sighed.

"We'll be there in a minute." Hawke said.

"Just the elf for now, Hawke. I'm quick, but even I can only dodge so many things being thrown at once."

She stared at the dwarf suspiciously for a moment before turning back to Fenris longingly. "Alright. Don't be long."

"You will hardly notice I'm gone."

* * *

Isabela was tapping her foot impatiently in front of the brig. When she saw him coming she threw her hands in the air and began pacing. Fenris took this to mean that whatever this meeting was about, he wasn't going to like it.

"You aren't going to like this." she said. "And you have a tendency to kill the messenger so why don't you just see for yourself?" she handed him the keys to the brig and gave him a wide berth.

He eyed the door apprehensively. "It can't be that bad."

"It's worse." Varric said. "Take a look. We'll be somewhere over here, out of throwing distance."

Fenris rolled his eyes. He turned the key in the lock and stepped inside. And that's when he saw them: not one, but two mages, and one of them was Anders.

He stepped out of the cell just as quickly as he had entered, slamming the door behind him. "HAWKE!"


	8. What a Girl Wants

**Anders**

Light flooded the small cell. It was blindingly bright as his eyes struggled to adjust. Lazarus had been snoring a second earlier but a sharp inhalation told him the disturbance had somehow managed to wake even him.

There were slow, even footsteps on the floorboards coming towards him, but they stopped right in front of him. He squinted up at the figure before him, but the contrast between the light and shadow gave no clear indication of a face. The silhouette could have belonged to anyone.

"Anders."

He'd know that voice anywhere.

His face softened and his heart welled and ached. "Hawke." he said, half sob, half hysterical laugh. "Is it really you?"

She gestured toward someone behind her and strong, ungentle hands lifted him to his feet. Her face manifested before him. She didn't look happy.

"I finally find peace and here you are, a ghost to haunt me." she paced before him like a predatory beast. "All this time I've prayed to the Maker that you were safe, but now that you stand before me, all I want is to be rid of you."

"Please, Hawke..."

The thought was punctuated by her striking him back down to the floor. It wasn't the first time she'd done that, but he could tell she held back other times. This time she leaned into it, putting all her weight into the swing and he felt it. He would have a black eye later, if he didn't heal it, and Hawke would probably be even angrier if he did. He couldn't help but notice the smug look of satisfaction on Fenris' face as the elf stepped into the room, an action that read "try anything and you die."

"I deserved that." he said.

"Shut up!"

"Will you please just let me explain?"

"I said shut up!" she turned toward Lazarus. "And who the hell are you?"

Lazarus looked up at her timidly and twiddled his thumbs. "Who me? No one. No one of consequence, anyway. Please don't hurt me."

"That's Lazarus." Anders offered. "He's an idiot, but he's harmless, as long as you're not flammable."

"There is no such thing as a harmless mage." Fenris spat.

"Is he the one you told me about?" Lazarus asked.

"The very same."

"He's pointier than I thought he'd be." he noted with interest. "I like that."

Fenris cast a baleful glare at Lazarus. Anders began laughing nervously. "You can stop talking now, Laz." The elf retook his place behind Hawke, looking as intimidating as ever.

"Oh, and you must be the Champion. Sign my chest?" he asked, reaching down to pull apart his robe, revealing the pale flesh underneath. _How did he get untied?_ Anders wondered. He was certain they'd bound him earlier.

"Lazarus what have I told you about doing that?" Anders warned.

"You said my skin is so white I'm liable to blind someone."

"Precisely."

Hawke chuckled and he took it as a cue for him to speak. "Hawke, I tried to find you again, but you'd already moved on. This was the one surefire way I knew I could see you again. I'm sorry, love."

Her face quickly contorted with rage and he thought she intended to hit him again. "You have no right to be so familiar! You blew up the Chantry and forced me to clean up your mess. You were the only one who could have possibly understood what I was going through and you abandoned me. You left in the dead of night without so much as a goodbye. I searched for you. I waited and put everyone in danger for you. Now you show up after I've finally moved on like nothing even happened? How could you? No, how dare you?!"

"I'm sorry." he said. "Nothing I can ever say will make up for what I did."

"You promised that you'd try. Was that just another lie?"

"I...it's not..."

"You were my friend, Anders."

"I know. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I never wanted to hurt you."

"I should have killed you when I had the chance."

His heart shattered in his chest at the sound of those words. He had often wondered late at night if she regretted sparing him. Here was his answer. "You still can. I won't even resist."

She turned away and after a moment or two of deliberation she said "Untie him. He can stay in sick bay until I find something better to do with him. Lazarus can stay with him."

"You can't be serious!" Fenris shouted. "That abomination is the reason we are on the run. He can't be trusted."

"Your concerns have been noted."

"Yet you choose to ignore them?"

"You are asking me to do something I can't do, Fenris."

"I am asking you to be reasonable."

"Regardless of who he is and what he did, he was my friend first. Friends help each other. Friends don't give up."

"You cannot save everyone, Hawke."

"So I've heard."

Fenris gave her an impressive sigh. "I see I am wasting my breath. You are nothing if not stubborn."

"You would have me no other way." and she gave him what Anders recognized as her most seductive smile. A pang of bittersweet lust washed over him, wishing it was him that she was smiling at instead. "Speaking of having me, I suggest you don't keep me waiting."

"It was nice meeting you, Champion." Lazarus called after her with his goofiest grin. She turned back to give him a confused expression then shook her head and kept walking. "She seems nice." he smiled at Anders.

"Stay away from Hawke." Fenris said through gritted teeth. Anders wasn't sure who the command was directed at- probably both of them. The elf disappeared behind him and he felt the icy touch of steel on his wrist, an obvious threat. Then the ropes binding his hands were cut. "I have my eye on you, mage."

"Just like old times." he sighed.

* * *

He remembered the ship, but he couldn't remember what had happened here. There were flashes, bits and pieces of events that could be fitted together if he struggled with it, but nothing was clear. He remembered Minrathous. He remembered Hawke saying it was over between them. He remembered her falling in love with Fenris. Everything seemed so out of context like a very bad case of deja vu that just wouldn't end.

Sick bay was exactly as he remembered it, although he sensed he spent very little time there on the trip to Minrathous. The cots were rickety and the blankets were thin and moth-eaten. The smell of elfroot permeated the fabric of the pillows, sickeningly sweet and astringent. Lazarus settled right in without any complaint and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Anders expected no less of him.

He began removing his mantle and jacket when a knock came at the door. "Come in." he said.

"Oh, I didn't realize..." a feminine voice said. "Wait, Anders? What in Andraste's name?"

He turned to find Bethany staring aghast at him. "Bethany, how are you?" He always did like Bethany. She was a bit naïve, but she had a good heart and she was frequently taken for granted because of it.

"Just fine, thanks to Marian. Where did you go? She was so worried about you."

"You could have fooled me." he snorted, pointing at his eye.

"Can you blame her for being angry?"

"No, I suppose not." he sighed. "At least she got you back."

The cot Lazarus was sleeping on shook violently and he turned toward them. "Will you keep it down? I'm trying to...oh." Lazarus said staring up at Bethany. "Oh."

Bethany studied his face for a moment. "Hello, I'm Bethany. Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"W-who me? No, no, nobody knows me! Why do you ask? Did someone say that? Who said that?"

Bethany giggled. "No one! You just looked familiar, is all."

"Oh, everyone says that. I just have one of those faces, but nobody actually knows me. You certainly don't know me."

She laughed again. "You're funny."

He creased his brow. "You're making fun of me."

"Bethany is the nicest, most sincere person I know. I don't think she's ever made fun of anyone." Anders said, covertly winking at him.

"Then you're just being nice. Begone!"

"Oh, alright. Sorry to bother you." she said staring at her feet.

"Who said you bothered me? Not me. I didn't say that."

"But you told me to leave."

"No I didn't."

"You just did, just a moment ago. You said 'Begone!'"

"I...I uh..." he pointed his finger and Anders had to think quickly before the unthinkable happened.

"It was nice talking to you Bethany. Lazarus and I could really use some sleep however."

She nodded. "Goodnight Anders and...what was it? Lazarus?"

Lazarus looked as if he did not truly know the answer to that question. "Yes." Anders said. "Goodnight, Bethany." She closed the door quietly behind her.

"That's a romance strategy I haven't heard of, being downright rude to a woman. Let me know how that works out for you."

"That was the girl." he said. "The girl with the fireballs. What are the chances?"

"Bethany is a nice girl. You could certainly do worse than her."

"Doesn't matter. She probably thinks I'm crazy."

"You are crazy. And from my experience, the Hawke women prefer it that way. Just don't light anything on fire. Or anyone."

He gasped. "You mean _ever_?"


	9. Duet

**Is anyone still reading this? Not that I feel entitled to praise or anything, but I feel like I haven't gotten much feedback at all since the start of this story. Should I just abandon ship and write something else? **

**Hawke**

The door opened behind her and Fenris' strong arms grabbed her up, twining about her body and holding her against him. He began placing needful kisses on her neck. "Hawke." he said with his lips against her skin. She could feel the rumbling of his voice deep inside her chest. "I have missed you."

She closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry." she said again.

"You will find some way to make it up to me, I'm certain." he said, his fingers walking down her stomach until they finally found her laces.

"Wait."

He chuckled. "I am not certain I can. I need you." he said, grinding his bulge against her backside.

"I'm afraid." she said and he let go of her, turning her toward him. His eyes were wide with concern.

"Afraid? Of me?"

"No, of course not. I'm just afraid that you'll find I wasn't worth the wait."

A smile quirked on his mouth just then, subtle and mischievous, he cupped her cheek and pulled her in until their lips were just barely touching. "Then let me put those fears to rest." and his mouth claimed hers in a searing kiss. Hawke could no longer resist him, it had been long enough.

A groan escaped from her throat and Fenris swallowed it hungrily, his fingers teasing an erect nipple through her tunic. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close and she could feel him pushing against his leggings with need. She rubbed him through the leather until he growled at her, reaching down to untie the laces with one fluid movement, his cock springing free of it's leather prison. With faltering hands, Hawke touched him for the first time in what seemed like forever.

The response was immediate and unexpected. He pulled away from their kiss, resting his forehead on her shoulder and sucking in a whistling breath of pleasure through his teeth. "_Sentit bonum_." he moaned. "Hawke, I love you."

It was like music to her and Hawke realized that he'd always felt that way. Their love was a song she knew by heart, a chorus and consonant melding of touch and taste and sound, a crescendo of passion building up to an energetic finale of pure emotion. That was Fenris and Hawke, and Fenris, in particular was a virtuoso.

"I love you." she answered, and he brought her hands to his lips, pressing sweet kisses into each of her palms. He looked up at her with half-lidded eyes and began undressing her with relishing deliberateness, running his fingers over the newly exposed skin.

"Beautiful." he said, his finger tracing an invisible line down her abdomen and stopping only when it found her slit, glistening with wet, hot desire. He dipped the wayward finger into her, smirking at the enthusiastic mewl he got in response. "It has been awhile, hasn't it?" But by the Maker, Hawke could not think straight enough to reply. Instead she fell backward onto the bed, splaying her legs for his access and reached up to release him from his jerkin while his fingers delved into her masterfully.

Her brow softened once he was finally nude. The stark white curls and tendrils of lyrium contrasting against his tanned skin had never failed to take her breath away. "Beautiful." she gasped.

He snorted, ever the modest sort, but stood back for her to admire nonetheless. "It is yours." he said, spreading his arms and looking down at himself.

"All of it? For me?" she asked, teasing.

"Of course."

She touched his hands. "These?"

He reached down to spread her like a flower and slipped a clever finger deep inside her, causing a shuddering groan to escape from her lips. "If that is your wish."

"And these?" she pointed to his lips, and he bent to kiss her, long and unbroken and cherishing as she could ever remember him kissing her before, his fingers still pumping in and out of her.

"What you will, Hawke." he said when they came up for air. His voice was breathy and soft.

"Even this?" she asked, stroking his length.

His eyes snapped shut and he simpered at the request, a blush tinging his cheeks and ears. "I suppose." he answered in a husky voice, pushing her gently onto her back with a series of staccato kisses.

He poised himself at her entrance but didn't sink into her, as though he were knocking at an imaginary door. Hawke squirmed beneath him eagerly. She began digging her nails into his back when she found a vine of lyrium that was especially sensitive, causing his hips to roll into hers. His cock slipped inside her of its own accord.

"You cheated." he protested with a hitching sigh.

"You'll find some way to get back at me, I'm certain." she mocked him and bit her lip.

His lips curled into a devilish smile as they built a cadence together, kisses punctuating the rhythm every now and again, and sometimes he would latch onto a nipple with tongue and teeth and she would be helpless to stop him if she wanted to.

"_Te volo_." he grunted.

"I'm right here." she purred back to him.

He laughed his deep gravelly laugh, the one he reserved

only for her. "Hmm, I see you are learning. I will have to watch what I say from now on, so as not to offend you."

"Don't let that stop you. You know what your voice does to me."

He bent to whisper in her ear "I'm sure I have no idea." and she gasped. Discordant breaths shook a tuft of silver white hair near her face. He chuckled and began nibbling gently on her earlobe. "Tell me."

She grabbed a thick handful of his soft hair and collided her lips with his. The joining of their tongues made her throb with ecstasy, and she wondered how she had resisted him for so long. He buried his face in her neck and his warm breath made her swell and whimper with want.

He looked down at her with eyes full of concern at the sound, his fingers threading through hers, pressing them into the pillow. Seemingly satisfied at the lack of distress in her eyes he pushed harder, deeper into her until she could hear popping wet sounds between them. The nerves inside her were pulsing already, aching for him to usher her into a bliss only his love could offer, safe and sweet.

"I can't believe you waited. I can't believe you stayed."

His eyes found hers, soft and unfocused, his pupils dilating wide through a plume of thick, dark lashes. A shock of quicksilver light flashed along the brands on his chin, lighting the room for just a second like lightning and he moaned, blowing a warm breath onto her lips. They were both so desperately close now.

"You are mine, Hawke. You will never be rid of me."

He crashed into her with a broken gasp, and their breathing became like a warm harmony of clouds, puffing and gasping and sighing together, pleasure overtaking them. He called her name and followed it with a stream of alien curses. One last turbulent thrust and both of them were completely spent.

He planted a dozen soft kisses on her face, rolling onto his side. Hawke was lost somewhere in the afterglow, as he traced lazy circles on her forearm with his finger.

"Was it worth the wait?" she asked.

He turned to her with a look of tired annoyance. "You know the answer already." Then after a moment or two he said "You tried to release me." there was a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I believe I succeeded." she laughed at her own joke.

"Hawke..." he frowned.

"It's difficult to explain."

"And yet I feel I am owed an explanation."

She combed a loose piece of hair behind his ear with her fingers. "True."

He fixed his eyes on her, but there was no hint of anger or judgment in them. "I am listening."

She took a deep breath in and began. "I saw what I had lost, Carver, my mother, my home, and then Anders. I realized that the people I care about end up dead or worse, and I just couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me. I tried to push you away for your own protection, but I was weak, a part of me wouldn't let go."

"You should never have to worry about protecting me, least of all from yourself. I would die without you." he laced his fingers through hers and clasped their hands together.

She continued. "And then tonight I finally felt like I could put the past behind me, that I could move on with my life. But it wasn't fair, making you wait all that time for me to be ready."

"That was not for you to determine. In a world where everything is fair and equal, things like grace and humility would be meaningless, and I might never have met you. I do not want fair. I have only ever wanted you."

She nodded. "But thankfully my plan backfired miserably. You weren't about to let that happen."

He chuckled. "Surely you know me better than that."

She closed her eyes, blinking away hot tears and her face found the warm crook of his neck. "I was a fool. This is where I belong. This is my home. Forgive me."

"I already have." he said, kissing the top of her head.

He pulled the covers over them for sleep, but his body seemed to have other ideas.

"Already?"

"It has been a while." he smiled sheepishly.

"Once more with feeling?" she asked, and Fenris captured her lips with his. Very little sleep was had between the two of them that night.


	10. Charisma

**[Py]Romance song: Maybeshewill - Red Paper Lanterns**

**Lazarus**

_Bethany._ Bethany was her name. His heart soared. Somehow the chaos had brought them together and Lazarus was convinced it was destiny.

He remembered the first time he saw her in his elemental magics class. She was just an apprentice then, but her skills were impressive anyway. He was immediately drawn to her with her soft, round face and her tousled hair, but after seeing her practice, he was in love.

He asked some of the other apprentices who she was, but no one knew. She seemed to have come from nowhere. She kept a very insular group of friends and she didn't talk much. He begged one of the Senior Enchanters to let him sit beside the pretty apprentice with the brown eyes, but they told him she was a bad influence, that she had lived her entire life as an apostate and would put ideas in his head.

Then there was that painful incident with the First Enchanter. Thank the Maker she seemed to have forgotten that.

Not long after that she had stopped coming to the elemental magics course. He thought he'd never see her again, that she'd failed her Harrowing or something horrible like that. That was, until he passed the healing arts class and peeked in to see her in circle robes. He made a point to pass that class each day at the same time in order to look in at her.

"Tell me about her."

"No. It's getting late and I'm exhausted." Anders whined.

"I'll just keep asking until you tell me." he said. "Please? Please, please, please? I'll be your best friend..."

Anders groaned into his pillow. "I'm your only friend. You should ask Hawke. I don't know her that well."

"But I don't know Hawke. I know you."

He sighed and began in a voice that fully expressed his boredom on the subject. "Bethany is a very sweet, smart girl. She grew up in a small village in Fereldan called Lothering. She had a twin brother named Carver who died while her family escaped the Blight. She's a virgin. Or she was, but I doubt that changed under Meredith's rule." Lazarus blushed. He wouldn't say it, but that was quite the relief. No one to compare him to, as such. "She grew up outside the circle. Her father was an apostate and taught her everything she knows about magic. Both of her parents are dead. She and Hawke are close. That's really all I know."

"That's a lot more than I knew a minute ago."

"You should really just talk to her. She's a nice person."

"I'll probably just end up yelling at her some more or lighting someone on fire. Things go bad when I talk to her. She's scary."

"Just relax. She won't bite."

"You sound so sure of that. She could. She has teeth."

Anders shook his head in resignation. "Alright, then don't. I really don't care."

"I didn't say that. I might."

"Just shut up about it, already. Go to sleep."

But try as he might, he just couldn't. He tossed and turned on the frail little cot and thought about her, about all the things he might say to her that weren't fantastically stupid.

"Anders." he whispered. He didn't respond. "Hey, Anders." he said a little louder. "ANDERS!" he shouted, jostling him awake

.  
The senior mage shot up, gasping with distress. "Huh? What? What happened?"

"What if she doesn't like me?" he asked.

Anders groaned. "Oh sweet Maker, please kill me now."

"Last question, I promise."

He settled back onto his pillow. "Then you can roast her on a spit with your magic. I'm sure it will be just as satisfying for you."

"You're right."

Anders jolted up at the concession. "What? I was kidding, Laz. Please don't light Bethany on fire."

"What?! No! NO! I meant that I should just talk to her. What's the worst that could happen?"

"With you? Lots of things. Most of them involving a fiery, painful death."

"Right, but at least I will have tried."

"You're the eternal optimist, aren't you?"

* * *

She was chatting with that odd elf girl on the foredeck and smiled when she saw him coming. Smiled! Maker's breath, he nearly ran in the opposite direction. The Dalish girl giggled and walked away, leaving her alone with him, and he began to feel like he was walking into a trap. Any second she would turn into a dragon and swallow him in one bite, and he wouldn't even be able to tell Anders "I told you so." He'd be dead.

"Oh, hi. Don't tell me...it's Lazarus, right? I'm so bad with names."

Lazarus grinned from ear-to-ear at the sound of his name on her lips and realized how utterly ridiculous he must look. "You can call me Laz if you want." _Off to a good start._ He thought.

"Alright." she said. "It's nice to see you again, Laz."

"It is? Are you sure about that?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

"Nevermind, do you like fire?"

"Sure. It's useful."

"Right? It's so useful. And pretty." he said.

"I suppose it is. Do you like things that are pretty, Laz?" she giggled, and Lazarus' breath caught in his throat and he began choking on air. "Are you alright?"

He struggled to regain composure, wondering why his body had decided to betray him now, of all times. He'd been drawing breath for twenty-eight years without any difficulty but the minute he heard her laugh he forgot how to do it properly. "Don't worry. I do that all the time." _What?! Why would you say that?! Stupid, stupid man._

"That must be troublesome." she said with a concerned look on her face. "You should get that checked out."

"Er, yeah. I'll do that." he said. "But we were talking about fire..."

"Oh, I thought we were talking about pretty things." she smiled coyly.

He gulped hard. Now he knew he'd been ensnared in a wicked trap. Bethany was no innocent virgin. She was a desire demon incarnate. Every cell in his body screamed at him to run for his life, but her soft doe eyes drew him in. He was helpless. "Pretty things?"

"I like your robe."

"My...oh, my robe? I embroidered that myself." He was a little embarrassed to admit that. The other mages in the circle made fun of him for doing it, but he found the art relaxing and enjoyed doing it in his free time.

Her eyes widened with surprise. "That's amazing, Laz."

"You don't think it's tacky? Anders says it's tacky."

"I think it's beautiful. I wish I could do that."

"Icouldteachyou." he said, much too quickly. "You know, if we ever had supplies. There's nothing to it."

"I would love that!"

He beamed. "I would too. Love to teach you, that is."

They both stared at each other for a good minute before the Dalish girl came back and linked elbows with Bethany, whispering in her ear and they both snickered like naughty children, but for once Lazarus felt like he was in on the joke. "It was nice talking to you, Laz." She said, and she sounded like she meant it.

"You too." he waved, stunned by the genuine smile on her face as she was pulled away.


	11. Love Games

**Fenris**

He was loath to admit it, but he liked the new mage. He was agreeable and he drove Anders absolutely insane, which was a source of endless entertainment for him. He liked to watch their interactions from nearby and even egg Anders on if he could.

"That is not what magic is for, Lazarus. Stop taking the piss out of the sharks."

"But it's fun."

"You are a hopeless idiot with no sense of self-preservation. It's a wonder you survived an entire day without supervision before you found me."

"It's boring here. One has to make their own entertainment."

"By scaring helpless animals?"

"Yes, that hammerhead just wanted to be friends." Fenris rolled his eyes for effect. "Feel free to use your magic to ward off any dangerous predators near the ship. I for one will not stop you."

"Of course!" Anders huffed, throwing his arms in the air. "You would never encourage magic unless it somehow made me angry."

"In this case, it is beneficial magic. The fact that it annoys you is merely an added bonus."

"Fine, make nice with him. Just don't complain to me when he latches onto you like a parasite."

"Hey!" Lazarus objected.

"Ignore him, he is bitter because his only friend lives in his head."

"Go away and leave me alone."

"Take a good, hard look at yourself. You are alone." he said and began to walk away.

"He didn't mean that." Lazarus said.

"Shut up, you moron."

* * *

So Fenris and Lazarus began to build a rapport, but when he confessed that he was romantically interested in Bethany, he was no longer sure how he felt.

He and Bethany had become quite close over the past year, and Fenris began to think of her as a sister. A much better sister than Varania, and he was surprised to find himself compelled to protect her. Bethany was innocent, as innocent as a mage could be, anyway. She was also sensitive and very quick to trust, which meant she could easily be hurt. As much as he liked Lazarus, he was quite dense at times. Fenris saw this as a recipe for disaster, potentially ending with the ship going up in flames.

"...and she's pretty, and she's smart, and her eyes are..."

"I see."

"Every time she talks to me I want to do a little dance. I have no appetite. I can't sleep because all I do is think about her. Is that love?"

Fenris frowned. "What are your intentions, Lazarus?"

"Intentions?"

"Bethany is special. She is not the type to take things lightly."

"Oh, I would never..."

"I see."

"Besides, I don't even know if she feels that way about me. Do you think she might? I hope she does."

"I doubt she would confide in me if she did. Ask Hawke, or better yet, ask Bethany herself."

"You don't understand. She turns me into a drooling idiot. Whenever I'm around her, all I can think about is touching her."

"Perhaps you should keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself."

"It's nothing like that. It's just...her hair. I just want to run my fingers through it, and to stroke her cheek and hold her hand. Was it the same when you met Hawke?"

Fenris snorted. "I wanted to do much more than hold her hand, but yes, I understand."

"And what happened?"

"It is a long story, but suffice it to say that we both struggled to get to where we are now, and we must remain vigilant. There are some who would tell you it gets easier with time. Those people are lying. Our love was built with blood and tears. That is why it is strong. _Asti avala femundis_."

Lazarus scratched his head. "I don't get it."

"I am unsurprised."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad I'm living up to your expectations, at least."

Fenris sighed. "I am not the right person to ask. As you may well have noticed, Hawke and I aren't exactly the norm."

"Yeah, you do both carry giant unwieldy weapons, but you're happy together."

"I suppose..."

"That's what I want. The happy part, not the weapon part."

"Is that what Bethany wants? With you?"

"I don't know."

"Then you should start there, before you buy any real estate in that head of yours."

"That was actually helpful. Thanks, Fenris."

"Glad I could help. And Lazarus?"

"Yes?"

"If you hurt Bethany, Hawke and I will both make sure you regret it."

He laughed nervously. "Good to know."

* * *

A week at sea and Hawke and he had regained much of what they'd lost over the last year. She laughed often. She kissed enthusiastically. She spoke freely. He found himself reluctant to leave the cabin each morning. There were so many seductive reasons to stay in bed now, not all of them risque in nature, but there was certainly that, too.

For example, on this particular morning, Hawke had woken him with a largess of kisses. It had become her ritual, and something of a game for the two of them. The rules were simple: if they both went back to sleep, Fenris won. If he got out of bed, Hawke won. There were a number of strategies either of them could employ to give them the upper hand, but invariably it would degenerate into something sexual, and it would all depend on how awake Hawke was after.

"Nghhhh." Fenris growled. He was not a morning person. He felt it was his sworn duty to grumble when woken, kisses or no, but in truth he could think of no better way to wake up.

"Good morning." she said sweetly.

He turned over on his side to shield himself from the onslaught of lips on his face. Hawke, as always, saw the challenge in this and climbed on top of him to get closer. This left him completely immobilized. More kisses rained on his cheek and ears. She would not relent.

"I said good morning."

"Agghhhhh." he buried his face in the pillow and blocked her with his hands. She huffed and grabbed him by the wrists, pinning him to the bed, flat on his back, which left her straddled on his hips. This was no accident, it was a calculated tactic of hers, an obvious appeal to his libido. He arched his hips into her in competition, refusing to open his eyes. _Do your worst, Hawke._

"Time to wake up."

She bent to kiss him, rubbing her breasts into his chest and teasing her tongue past his lips. _She is good_. He pressed his erection against her. "Give me a good reason." he murmured, his eyes closed and his voice deep and gravelly from sleep.

She gave him a throaty chuckle and crawled down his body and began removing his smalls with her teeth. He watched her through one open eye, so as not to let her think she was getting the better of him. It was still anyone's game at this point, but Hawke had a tendency to get intolerably cocky when she started getting her way too much. If she wanted him awake so badly, he was going to make her work for it.

"Have I piqued your interest yet?"

"First thing in the morning and already I am naked and cold. I hope you at least intend to fix the latter of the two."

"You had something in mind to that effect?"

"You are bad at this. Why undress me only to play coy? I am going back to sleep."

"It's funny, last night I went to bed with a sweet, charming, handsome elf, but somehow I woke up next to a toad." she sighed. "You're supposed to change into a prince after I kiss you."

"Hmph." he thrust his hips at her face, making his request apparent.

"What's that? You'll have to forgive me, I never learned how to read hips."

Fenris growled at her sad attempt at humor. He was growing impatient. "These stories never seem to factor in location. Where you place the kiss is vital to the ritual."

"Is that so? You know this from experience, serah toad?"

"Enough talking. That mouth has a higher calling than this."

"If you want something from me, you'd better start being nice."

"Hawke..." he groaned. "It's early."

"That's no excuse to be mean."

"It's early and I want you." he sighed, and almost as an afterthought added "Please."

"Hm. That's a little better, I suppose." she smiled. "Not exactly poetry, but I guess I should take what I can get from you in the morning." He groaned again.

A musical laugh came from her lips and once that was over she promptly wrapped them around his member. He rocked into the feeling reflexively, and she took in the length of him without complaint, her tongue sweeping across the underside as she slid back up to the tip. He propped another pillow under his head to watch her work, noting with arousal that she was enjoying herself, and making quite the show of staring up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. He reached down and gently pushed her hair back over her forehead and she closed her eyes at his touch. That he could have such an effect on her was no small source of pride for him. He gave her a soft moan of encouragement, closing his fist around the handful of soft hair at the feeling of her tongue curling around his shaft.

He could feel his foul morning mood dissolving as she tugged him into her waiting mouth, licking and dabbing him with her tongue. A storm of emotions were overwhelming him and they blended with the torrent of physical sensations until he shuddered at every featherlight touch or breath. She raised an eyebrow at his enthusiasm, perhaps curious as to just what she was doing that was so right, but it wasn't a what, it was a who. She made him want more than just release. He wanted to blur the lines between them until they couldn't be parsed from each other again. "Come here." he rasped, as tenderly as he could, his fingers hooking under her arm to pull her on top of him.

She seemed almost apprehensive, but raised herself up on all fours and crawled into his lap, nonetheless. "But I was just getting to the good part."

"Why should you get to have all the fun?" he smirked. He could feel the heat coming from her center and he couldn't stop himself from caressing it, and pushing a long finger inside her all the way to the knuckle. His eyes widened as he found her soaking wet already. She slapped his hands away, seemingly in a hurry to have him inside her. She guided him in, enveloping him until their hips met and he trembled at the feeling.

"_Vae mihi misero_. You feel entirely too good, Hawke." His mouth latched onto a nipple and she keened, slowing and breaking her pace to revel in the sensation, his hips snapped into hers, the force of which launched her forward and she toppled over onto him.

She laughed "_Vae est vos! Mea culpa_." The words were clumsily accented, poorly worded and unimaginably beautiful coming from her lips. It surprised him, though it shouldn't have. She had known him long enough to pick up some basic Arcanum, but to hear her speak it while making love, however broken, was maddening. A rapturous ache spread from his groin to his inner thighs, and swelled and pulsed deep in his abdomen.

"_Vae est tu_." He corrected her, then feeling a bit foolish for fixing her grammar, decided encouragement was needed, because the last thing he wanted was for her to stop. "_Bene. Impressiva_. Keep talking. Don't stop."

She chuckled "_frueris_?" You like? A self-conscious smile perked the corners of her lips, and he suffered blissfully at the gentle honesty behind it. Yes, he most certainly did. He gripped her tightly, he could feel himself being undone with each stroke, each plunge. She flexed around him, milking him into her, the sweet friction inside her making his eyes roll back.

"_Adori, et...etiam...adori tu._" he answered breathlessly, pulling her by the hair into a long, savoring kiss, stealing her tongue into his mouth where they warred for control. Her fingers glided over the most sensitive of his brands and he felt a burn so tender and saccharin sweet that he nearly cried out when she stopped. "Hawke." he moaned thickly, and she resumed her careful delineation, as though reading his mind, every inch of his lyrium-scarred body tingling from her touch. Another sweet kiss and he could feel himself unraveling inside her.

She pulled away from his lips and he grunted at the loss. "_Te amo_." she whispered in his ear, her breath plucking at his resolve. A warm tongue brushed over his earlobe, tracing it's way to the pointed tip where she nipped him gently and he felt the last of his resistance shatter. One, two, three more thrusts and he erupted into her with a feral shout, his arms braiding around her haphazardly and his hands scrambling for any kind of purchase on her body to keep him firmly in this world, in this blissful second with her.

He kissed her once more before she dismounted, curling against him. He nuzzled into her neck, happy and comfortable and warm. "Good morning." he said with a sly smile. Stubborn as he was, she had earned her victory.

"Five more minutes." she mumbled sleepily. He smiled and pulled her against his chest._ Some battles are won by inches,_ he thought, but Fenris was feeling gracious. He would not rub her face in it this time. Besides, she was torturously comfortable and he was already drifting off. Hawke would wake some time later to find him fast asleep and round two would commence. The day would just have to wait**.**


	12. A Strange Man

**__********"Not Quite Right" song: ****Massive Attack - Angel**

**Anders**

A moment alone- that was all he wanted in the world. Between Justice, Lazarus and Isabela's crew he hadn't had a second to himself in a week. He'd long given up on the idea of a full night's sleep, as someone was always pounding on the sick bay door at all hours of the night with a particularly nasty splinter or rope burn or, Maker help him, _scurvy_. How someone had managed to contract scurvy after only a week at sea left him dumbfounded, especially since there was still plenty of fruit in the galley. If he wasn't a good man he'd let the man suffer for a while to teach him a lesson. He'd chosen the path of the healer, and for that he would always be plagued by the terminally stupid but Anders didn't have the time or the patience for it anymore. He had his own very serious problems to deal with. The most startling of which being that he was losing his mind.

It started with the headaches as it always did. He was well acquainted with the deep, dull, throbbing sensation in the front of his head by now. Then there were long lapses in his memory, or he'd forget what he was doing while he was doing it. Sometimes hours would go by and he wouldn't remember a minute of it, but later he'd find that he'd gone about his day as usual, eating breakfast, treating patients, talking to Lazarus. It would be impressive if it wasn't so frightening.

If that wasn't bad enough, then began the hallucinations. His dreams began entering the waking world. He would turn his head and see a monstrous wave about to crest over the ship, or tentacles would wrap themselves around the bowsprit. Fenris would pass him and suddenly sprout several dozen eyes and a pair of horns. They felt so real even when he somehow managed to convince himself they weren't. It didn't set his mind at ease in the least bit.

He wondered what the cause of all his new problems could be. If it was caused by Justice, it wasn't on purpose. The spirit seemed just as disturbed by the changes as he was. He worried for some time that it could be the corruption in his blood, but if that were true why didn't he dream of the archdemon? In all his years of being a healer, he had never seen anyone with symptoms like his. He had no experience to draw on.

Thankfully, there hadn't been another incident like the one with the imaginary templars since they left Kirkwall. Hawke's influence, he guessed. She had a way of grounding him, but the madness inside him was something too strong for even her to gentle. Not that she wanted anything to do with him, as she was actively avoiding him.

He was able to hide most of it from everyone. Everyone except Lazarus, of course, who was so far up his arse that he and Justice were practically roommates. Anders had tried desperately to hand him over to someone else. He got on with almost everyone, except Isabela, surprisingly, but he seemed to only want to spend time with him, talking about Bethany. It was disgusting, really. A part of him wanted to shove them both in a room and lock the door until they either had sex or one was forced to eat the other for survival. The thought amused him more than it should have. Had he always been this cynical? Was he always this irritable or was it another symptom? He couldn't tell.

Whatever the case, it was getting worse every day and Anders was powerless to stop it. Soon he would be forced to seek help from Hawke, but he was not eager to do so. He'd been a thorn in her side for long enough already.

The one constant in his madness was her. When the specters came to raid his waking world, she would drive them away with her beauty and her strength. Every cell in her body was as formidable as any demon he'd ever encountered and they took to the shadows when they saw her coming.

And in his delirium, he could almost believe that she was his again. Perhaps that was the real reason why he hesitated to seek her aid, because sanity could offer him nothing better. Was it really so wrong to flirt with his end if he could find happiness in her kiss once again, delusion though it may be? He had nothing else, not even his memories to comfort him. Only a ghost of the woman he loved, though he couldn't even remember why or how he had come to love her to begin with.

It didn't matter that she wasn't real, or that he could no longer assuredly determine what was real and what was fantasy anymore. All that mattered was that this beautiful woman kissed his troubled head when he laid down to sleep each night. And although monsters with ghastly claws reached from the shadows to strangle and scratch him, he was safe in her arms until morning came. She was his Hawke once again, the terrible angel from his addled daydreams.


	13. Want a Sandwich?

**Lazarus**

He was relieved to finally be off the ship, but Seere was an overwhelming place, hot and noisy and overcrowded. He didn't know what to think about all it's color and music. And all the people! Never before had he seen so many people in one place! There were queues for everything. It seemed like people would queue up in order to stand in line elsewhere.

The Gallows was really his only point of comparison for anything and the one he knew was nothing like this. The Circle was a drab and boring place. The Knight-Commander believed that too much stimuli was extravagant. Extravagance encouraged individualism and individualism incited rebellion which she wouldn't tolerate. That was why the food was bland, that was why the schedule was so strict, that was why free-time was so heavily regulated.

Here was a different story. This was freedom at its best, loud and boisterous and wild. It was frightening and beautiful at the same time. Lazarus had never truly felt this way before. Even on the run with Anders, he'd been too afraid of being caught to appreciate his independence.

Isabela came up behind him and threw an arm over his shoulder. "Come on, Bubbles. Let me show you a good time."

He sucked his teeth. He had a growing distaste for the pirate, but she either didn't know or didn't care. He suspected it was the latter and this bothered him even more. Ever since he'd mistakenly let it slip that he was a virgin, she'd been relentless in her pursuit, trying to make him the next in her list of seemingly infinite conquests and she wouldn't take no for an answer.

Not only that, but she discovered early on that he had a tendency to blush. After that, she created some kind of cruel, embarrassing game out of it. She made an effort to say vulgar things in front of him and called him by increasingly mortifying nicknames just for a reaction. "Bubbles" was just the newest torment in her arsenal. Before that it was "Dumpling" and "Cuddle-bear." Anders insisted that Isabela did this to everyone, but he was not fooled. She was picking on him and he knew it.

"Actually, Isabela, Laz and I have plans." Bethany smiled.

"Er, we do?" he asked stupidly. She gave him a pointed look. "Oh, right. Those plans. Mage stuff. You wouldn't be interested."

"Fine." Isabela sighed. "You'll give in eventually. They always do." She grazed the top of his thigh with her hand and he shrunk away from her with a gasp. She winked and strutted off.

When she was safely out of sight he turned to Bethany, wiping the sweat off his brow. "You're a lifesaver."

"She did the same thing to me when I first met her, only I had a big sister to protect me from her...influence. She's actually quite sweet once you get to know her."

"When you get to know her or when you get to know her?"

"I'm guessing both." she giggled. "I wouldn't know, myself."

He blushed furiously. "Oh, I didn't mean to suggest..."

"I know." she smiled warmly.

"Anyway, thanks. I owe you one."

"You did promise to teach me embroidery."

"Oh right. I forgot about that." He hadn't. In fact he'd thought about it constantly since their conversation, but he was proud of himself for not seeming desperate. "Well, we seem to be in a city made entirely of rainbow silk, so there's bound to be thread somewhere around here."

"Sounds like an adventure to me."

He cocked his head to the side. "Really? Shopping for thread? That's a little sad, actually."

"In a strange city." she protested.

"Thread is thread, my lady, from one city to the next. I'm sure there are things less exciting in this world, but I'm drawing a blank." He grinned wickedly. She slapped him hard in the shoulder but there was no anger in it. Feeling brave, he continued. "No wait, I've got it. Porridge.

Porridge is definitely more boring than thread, but not by much. Shall we pick up some porridge while we're out on our adventure?" he stuck his tongue out at her.

"By the Maker, he has a sense of humor. I couldn't tell by all the blushing and stammering."

"Now that's just mean."

"And apt."

"Maybe a little." he sighed. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"I didn't say that." she smiled. "I think it's cute."

He laughed nervously and pulled on his collar. "Is it hot? It seems a bit hot. Blazes, the sun never sets in this blighted city, does it?"

"Shall we?"

He shoved his hand in his pocket out of habit, and when he did he found a bag full of coin. _Isabela!_ He wasn't sure whether to be grateful or humiliated by the subtle violation of his person. Whatever the case, he was not going to give up the opportunity to impress Bethany.

She proffered her hand to him and with little thought he took it. He would never tell anyone this, but it was the first time he'd ever even touched a girl, at least that he could remember. Her hands were impossibly soft and warm, and then the thoughts he was having were not entirely pure. Like what those hands might feel like in other places. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind as quickly as he could, before his body decided to react in a very unseemly manner.

* * *

As it turns out, shopping for thread was the most fun he'd had in his whole life. Seere had an impressive range of colors, all of which excited Bethany.

"This is my favorite color." she said, running her hands over a bolt of yellow cloth.

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Good color. It suits you."

"Really? You think so?"

"Bright, happy, warm...like fire. You remind me of fire."

"Everything reminds you of fire." she laughed. "You're obsessed."

"Last time I pay you a compliment." he feigned resentment.

"You're very sweet, Laz."

"Go on. You owe me three more."

She laughed. "Fishing for compliments, are you?"

"Well, fair is fair." he objected. "I gave you four, now you give me four. And they'd better be good ones, and they'd better be true."

"My, you're demanding, serah."

"That doesn't count."

"Does it need to be right now?"

"I'm a little offended that you can't think of anything." he teased. "You must not like me very much."

"Maybe I'm just a little shy, myself. Did you consider that?"

_Damn her, I'm blushing again._ "I...is that true?"

"Maybe." she smiled devilishly. "Get to know me and you might find out." She sauntered away from him and he ran to catch up.

"I thought that was what this was about. Getting to know each other."

"Really? I thought this was about rescuing you from that evil pirate queen."

"Ah! A touch!" he cried, grasping his heart. "You are cold as ice. I don't know if I can be your friend anymore."

"Funny, charming, handsome." she said over her shoulder. "Oh look, pastries. Let's get some."

He stopped dead in his tracks, trying to compose himself because he couldn't stop smiling like a fool. His heart raced and threatened to beat right out of his chest. A dark, toothless man gave him a thumbs up.

"Be there in a moment." he said. "I think I dropped something at the last stall."

It was unquestionably too soon for him to be buying her gifts, and he was well aware. The fabric wasn't a gift, though. The robes he planned to have made for her were, but nice robes take a long time, and Maker willing, it wouldn't be too soon by the time it was done. He paid for the yellow fabric with Isabela's coin and shoved it in his pack. He would have to remember to thank the "evil pirate queen" later.

* * *

It was dark when they came back to the ship, and all the lights on board were off. It became apparent to him that the others were probably in an inn somewhere, but before he could panic a figure rose from a crate and strolled toward him. Another stood, but didn't approach. It was too dark to tell who it might be.

"Sister." Hawke's voice greeted them, gruffly. "You're out awfully late."

"We were shopping." Bethany said in a warning voice. "I didn't realize I had a curfew."

"I was worried sick." she said. "You could have at least told us you'd be gone all night."

"I shouldn't have to."

He hadn't noticed the elf approaching. "We should go." Fenris said.

"Not so fast!" Hawke said. "I'd like a word with you, Lazarus."

"Please don't do this." Bethany begged. "I'm a big girl, sis."

"Last time you said that you ended up in the Circle. I won't lose you again. Fenris, can you escort my sister back to the inn?"

"It was my choice. You can't be angry at him."

"Who said I was angry? I just want to talk." she said in a voice that sounded like she meant to do no such thing.

Lazarus gulped hard. Bethany gave him a mournful look, but complied. Fenris leaned in and whispered "Don't make any sudden movements and don't look her directly in the eye, she perceives that as a challenge. And never use the words 'moist' or 'penal.' Just trust me on that one. Godspeed my friend."

"Ha-ha. Very funny."

"I was not joking." he said solemnly.

Bethany and Fenris retreated into the distance, and hesitantly, he turned back to Hawke with her giant axe and her equally impressive frown.

"Ehm, you wanted to talk to me." he said in an entirely too high-pitched voice.

She gestured for him to have a seat on one of the crates, then sat down beside him. "Relax." she said. "It's just a joke." She reached down and handed him a sandwich of gargantuan proportions.

He stared at the sandwich with a look of suspicion, partially concerned that it would bring about his gruesome end, and partially baffled at how it's size managed to defy physics. "A joke? I don't think I understand...where in the Maker's name did you get that sandwich?"

"Just a harmless prank between sisters."

"So you're not angry at us?" Then a second or two later- "I'm serious, though, that sandwich is preposterously large."

"Why would I be angry? You're both adults." she said with a mouthful of food. "Besides, Fenris already told you what we'd do if you hurt her, right?"

"Ah, yes. I'm not about to forget that. Anyway, I don't even know if she likes me that way."

"She likes you."

He sat forward. "Are you sure? Did she tell you that? What did she say? Tell me everything."

"She didn't say anything, but I know my sister."

Again he couldn't control his grin. "I like her too."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Hawke said dryly and then sighed. "Just be careful. Bethany isn't like other girls. She's very sensitive. And a virgin." she added quickly.

"I...not to volunteer too much information, but so am I." Heat rose from his neck to his cheeks and ears. "The last thing I want to do is hurt her."

"Good." she smiled. "I like you, Lazarus. I'd hate to have to tear you apart, limb from limb."

"Yes, bloody shame that would be." he shuffled in his seat. "Good talk, messere. Tell me about the sandwich now."

"Please, call me Hawke."

"Thanks, Hawke." he smiled. "So does this mean I can say 'moist' again?"

She shuddered at the word. "Not if you like having both thumbs."

"Gotcha."


	14. Lightning Crashes

**Hawke**

"Anders..." Hawke said. "Calm. Down."

His eyes were frantic, widened and blazing with terror and madness, the likes of which she'd never seen in him before. She looked for the telltale signs of Justice taking over, but no blue fire flickered in his veins and his eyes were the same soft brown ones she knew. He took another step back, raising his staff high in the air.

It happened so fast. She'd come to his room to gather him for a job. Bethany said she was tired and Fenris insisted she bring a healer just in case something went wrong. She expected to find him grinding herbs or with his nose in a book, but instead he was tearing at his hair with a crazed look on his face, rocking and mumbling to himself. When she approached him, he became hysterical and then he'd turned on her.

"Anders, listen to me. You know me. We're friends."

A branch of lightning arced into his weapon, braiding around the wood all the way down to his fingertips. "Back, demon!"

She sighed dramatically, turning toward Varric to shrug. "This is the second time someone I've slept with has mistaken me for a demon. It's starting to hurt my feelings."

Varric snickered. "Maybe it's your taste in men."

"Quiet dwarf." Fenris said unsheathing his sword. "Lay down your weapon, mage! I will not tell you again."

"I said stay away!" Anders shouted.

"He needs help. He has no idea who we are." Hawke said.

"He needs to be put down before he hurts someone."

"Anders..." Hawke began, taking a cautious step toward him but before she could continue a thread of lightning licked her hard across the throat, hot and sharp and the pain was so immense that everything else ceased to exist for just a second. _The snaking agony of death._ She thought. _I am going to die._ The world flash white and black and her body seized against her will. Seconds stretched out for days and in this place outside of time she could remember everything that had ever happened to her, every word she'd spoken, every step she'd taken, every kiss from Fenris. That's what she feared the most, leaving him behind. She wanted to tell him to be strong, but her lips could not form words.

Then the pain stopped as abruptly as it began, and then she fell for what seemed like miles and miles before she stopped and she was cradled in mid-air and she could feel the caress of blankets against her skin.

"That was your last mistake." she could hear Fenris saying, but she couldn't make sense of her eyes yet to see him. The sounds of struggle became apparent.

"Don't do it, elf!" Varric said through gritted teeth. "You know how Hawke feels about you killing her exes. Maker's breath, you're strong."

"Let go of me, Varric! I do not wish to harm you!"

"I won't let you do this! Hawke, if you can hear me I could use a little help!"

She tried to move but her muscles spasmed and twitched against her will. It was useless.

"He hurt her! I can't let him live. Let go!"

"Is it worth losing her forever? That's what's going to happen and you know it." Silence. "I thought so."

"H-Hawke?" Anders whimpered.

"You nearly killed her! Do you hear me, Abomination? You tried to murder the only person who cares if you live or die!"

"Oh Maker!" he cried out, his voice cracking in the middle. A moment later hot tears fell on her face, soft uncalloused fingers dragged gently over the tender welt on her neck and the scent of magic filled her nostrils. "I'm so sorry, love. I should have told you. How could I have been so stupid?!"

"If she is hurt..." Fenris' voice quavered.

"If she's hurt, I'll willingly submit to your blade." he interrupted. "Give me a moment."

Again she tried to open her eyes. They flooded with color and light, but everything was blurred and swaying.

"Thank the Maker." Anders said.

"Out of my way." Fenris growled. White hair and green eyes formed in front of her.

"Fenris?"

"I am here, Hawke." he smiled weakly, cupping her cheek. "Does it hurt?" His fingers traced the wending burn on her neck.

"I've been through worse." She grunted and sat up. In truth, she felt like she'd been run over by a stampede of brontos. Every inch of her body screamed with pain, but she suspected it was par for the course after nearly being electrocuted, and worrying Fenris wouldn't help matters.

Anders cleared his throat. "I suppose you'll want an explanation."

* * *

To his credit, Fenris listened to the entire thing without saying a word. Even Hawke could not read his expression.

"So that just about sums it up." Anders said. "I'm an idiot."

"How long has this been happening?"

"The episodes? For months. They stopped happening when you showed up. I thought they were gone for good. The other symptoms started roughly the same time the episodes stopped."

Fenris shifted his weight, as though he were trying to get comfortable. And then in the space of a blink of an eye he leapt onto Anders and punched him square in the jaw, the force of which knocked his head back. He retook his seat beside Hawke as though nothing had happened.

"That wasn't necessary." Hawke said.

"It most certainly was." Fenris crossed his arms over his chest and sank against the wall, indicating that the discussion was over.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Anders. He had never looked so ashamed in his life, even after the Chantry explosion.

"What should we do?" she asked.

"Don't you tire of caring for this fool like some kind of infant? I know I do."

"I am not your responsibility anymore, Hawke. I accepted that when I asked you to procure the ingredients for..."

She held her hand up. "Do not remind me of my role in that."

"This is why I didn't tell you, love. I didn't want to burden you further. I never thought I'd...I'm sorry."

"Keep saying that loudly and often enough. Perhaps one day you will even manage to convince yourself it's true." Fenris said.

"It is true!"

"You have been apologizing to Hawke for your various misdeeds for as long as I have known you, but you have yet to prove your sincerity beyond words. In fact, each time you profess your regret for your actions, you follow up by doing something else that is either foolish or despicable. Is it any wonder she holds you at arms length these days?"

"How do you prove your remorse when you've done things as horrible as I have? I owe Hawke everything and I've wronged her so thoroughly. My guilt has stained my soul and regardless of what I do, I will take that feeling to my grave. You of all people should know what it's like to be indebted to someone more than you could ever possibly repay."

"I at least make an effort. I express my gratitude to Hawke every day in tangible, meaningful ways. I will gladly do so until I die. Let it never be said that I am not grateful."

"Fine! I admit it, I'm a screw-up! I know this. We all know this. She should have written me off years ago. I never meant to hurt her, but the path to hell is paved in good intentions, isn't it?"

"Can you both please stop talking about me like I'm not here?" she sighed. She was so tired of people putting her on a pedestal. Anders was the biggest offender, but even Fenris was known to do so from time to time, though she thought that was more derivative of his low self-worth than any legitimate debt between them. "Obviously I'm not just going to abandon you to your fate, Anders. You know me better than that. Why don't we use our energy for finding a solution, rather than pointless bickering?"

"I don't even know where to start." he said. "I don't even know what's causing it. It could be Justice, it could be the taint, it could be a combination of the two, it could be natural. I've never seen anything like it. Without a diagnosis, there's no way to treat it."

"Then we'll need a second opinion." she said. "Where can we get one?"

"If it's a magical affliction, the Circle of Magi might have something about it in their library, but I don't remember reading anything about it, and my studies in the healing arts were extensive. I wouldn't even know what to look for and it would be beyond dangerous."

"Aside from that?"

"The only thing I can think of is the Tevinter Imperium and I couldn't ask you to do that for me."

_Tevinter._ She felt a knot form in her throat. The thought of bringing Fenris back to that place crushed her, but neither could she ignore what was happening to Anders. "Then we set sail for Tevinter."

"A word, Hawke." Fenris said, stepping out into the hall.

"We can argue about it later, Fenris."

"No. We need to talk now."

She sighed and stepped into the hall. He took her by the hand and led her to their suite, closing the door behind him. He folded his arms across his chest, staring at her intently. It was a long time before he said anything.

"Please tell me you know what you're doing." he said quietly.

"No idea."

He sighed. "I promised myself I would never return to that place."

"That's why I want you to stay here."

"What?! That is not what I meant. Absolutely not."

"I'm not asking." she said.

"I am going."

"Those people hurt you, degraded you, treated you like property. There's no reason for you to relive that pain."

"Pain!" he scoffed. "What about the pain of seeing you sail away, not knowing if you will even return? If it were me, could you tolerate such pain?"

"I just don't want you to resent me."

"Resent you?"

"For bringing you back to that place. I know you. You'd go, but you'd hate me for it."

"No. I would never."

"You would almost certainly."

"You can't possibly believe that."

"Maybe not right away, but eventually..."

"_Futuo_! Shut up, Hawke!" he paced in front of her, clenching and unclenching his fists, his markings flaring with mercurial light. "I have done things for you I would never do otherwise, I have fought for causes I didn't believe in, I have stood beside you even when you wanted nothing to do with me, all because I love you! Because I am yours, every inch of me! I am here, Hawke! Against all odds, I have always been here. All this time I have been content just to be near you. Now you wish to take even that from me! Do you still think I will balk at the first sign of discomfort? Have I not proven my loyalty? My devotion to you? Will it ever be enough?"

"Of course it is!"

"Then do not face this alone. You would risk your life for someone who has done nothing but betray, use and lie to you and ask for nothing in return, and make no mistake, nothing is exactly what he will give you. Your job is as thankless as it is endless, and I can see the toll it has taken on you. You have suffered in solitude for too long. Let me carry you through this. Let me be the hero, just this once. I swear I can handle it as long as you are near me."

"Fenris, I don't want..."

"Just listen for once in your life!" he shouted. "I will not let you cast me aside this time. I am done waiting for you to include me in this relationship. Where you go, I will follow! To Tevinter, to death, through the gates of the Black City itself! Happily! Do not try to convince me otherwise."

The electricity of his words still buzzed in her ear, although the room was deathly quiet but for his panting. The rant had worn him out, evidently. She shook her head, sighing deeply. "You're right."

He was still catching his breath, but his head snapped up to look her in the eye. "What?"

"I said you're right. I need you."

He furrowed his brow. "You are being sarcastic."

"I'm being serious. Sometimes I forget that I don't have to suffer alone. I just needed to be reminded. I need you beside me. But Fenris, I can't ask you to..."

"You don't have to." He said and he kissed her, a clashing broken kiss, wet and toothy and rough. The force pushed her back and she tripped over a pair of dirty smalls on the floor. She yelped, but he caught her handily.

"Good catch."

He cocked an eyebrow up at her. "You are surprised? You shouldn't be."

"I guess I'm just easily impressed."

"Hm. I look forward to the day when I manage to convince you that I will always be here to catch you."

"Will that be before or after the day when you remember where the dirty clothes bin is?" she grinned. "Then I would be truly amazed."

He huffed in indignation, but bent to retrieve the offending underclothes. "Starting today." he said, and he tossed the garment into the basket with a smile.


	15. Always and Forever

**Happy Valentimes. Hope everyone is enjoying it, but if not, here's a little sweet Fenris to cheer you up. **

**Fenris**

Hawke and Isabela were discussing arrangements for their departure and much as he reveled in the closeness he and Hawke shared now, he was glad for a moment alone.

He would not lie to himself and pretend that the thought of returning to Tevinter didn't disturb him. Of course it did. The Imperium had left it's cruel mark deep in his soul as well as on his body. Willingly stepping foot into the place was a chilling concept, but perhaps with Hawke it would be different.

Hawke's sense of loyalty ran deeper than he thought humanly possible and Anders seemed ever determined to test the bounds of that loyalty. He knew better than to imagine that Hawke had any kind of romantic inclination toward the man anymore. No, she was completely devoted to Fenris. Sometimes he wondered if she continued to help the mage only to prove a point, but surely even someone like Hawke must have had a limit?

He turned a corner and a warm north-blowing breeze swept his hair off the back of his neck. To his left, the ocean continued its relentless pursuit of the shore. To his right, the tallest branches of the unfortunately named "Murderweald" bent toward him in the wind. He took in the scent of saltwater and roasting meat and baking bread and something else he couldn't put his finger on. Tea perhaps? A woman with bells sewn into the hem of her skirt handed him a sample of some kind of sticky sweet cake that melted in his mouth. He sucked the sugary residue off his thumb and nodded at the woman in approval. She gave him a smile that rivaled the confectionery for sweetness, the sweep of her lips brightening her entire face, dark as mahogany. He pressed some coin into her palm and she gave him a basket full of them.

Seere was a gentler place than Kirkwall. Despite the noise and color, life seemed to drift by, simple and lazy as a cat in the sun. He had so wanted to give that to Hawke, but she was as in love with duty as she was with him, looking for every excuse to swim against the tide. Maybe they were never meant for this type of life.

He spotted his destination in the distance. The stall was unremarkable as far as dressings went, just a simple blue linen drape and a tablecloth to match, but the twinkling of gemstones could be seen a long way off. The fat, hairy merchant grinned when he saw Fenris.

"Ah, I see you've returned, my friend. Have you made a decision?"

"I...I am not certain."

"Do you want to look at it again? I knew you'd return, so I set it aside for you."

"That was kind of you. If you don't mind..."

"Not at all! Just a moment! Just a moment."

The merchant turned his back and had Fenris been a different man he could have made away with the entire table and the merchant would have never found him. Instead, he waited patiently.

"Here we are." he handed Fenris the bag. "What do you think?"

"A fine ring." Fenris said, turning it over in his hand.

"Might I ask what the occasion is?"

"An engagement." he answered. It was the first time he said so much aloud.

"For a woman!" the merchant gasped. "Oh mercy, that won't do, son."

"It won't?" He asked, genuinely confused. Granted, Fenris was more than a little clueless when it came to fashion, but Hawke never seemed concerned with that sort of thing and the ring immediately struck him as something she would like.

"Too bold! Too strong for a woman's fragile hand. Look at it! This one's a weapon. It's likely to tip her over if she wears it. And the color? It reminds me of blood! No, not for a woman."

"It's perfect." Fenris decided.

"Let me show you this one. Look how demure it is and yet the stone still leaves an impression on the eyes! Isn't it lovely? Just imagine it on her dainty finger..."

"She's not that kind of woman."

"What kind of woman is she, then? A Qunari?"

Fenris smirked. "She's bold, strong and she looks good in blood."

"I...well alright, my friend, but all sales are final. 'Looks good in blood.' That's a new one. It takes all kinds to make a world, I guess." the hirsute man mumbled, shaking his head. Fenris handed over the coin until his purse was almost empty. "Best of luck to you, my friend."

"And to you."

* * *

Fenris mulled over how to go about proposing to Hawke in the week that followed, but he had never been good at that sort of thing and he ended up even less sure of himself than when he began. As much as he despised the idea of putting his personal life on display, he decided to ask for help.

"I don't know. Just ask her." Donnic said.

"Helpful." Fenris said dryly.

"My husband, the romantic." Aveline sighed.

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Start with flowers. Women love that sort of shit." Varric said.

"Somehow I doubt flowers will impress Hawke." Fenris snorted.

"Suit yourself."

"If you ask me..." Aveline began.

"I didn't."

"I was only trying to help..."

"Don't."

"What's the problem?"

"_Copper marigolds_."

"Fine." Aveline huffed. "See if I ever offer my help again."

"See, what you gotta do is...is..." Britta stammered. Everything within a five-foot radius of her stunk like alcohol and the barkeep was so tired of refilling her tankard that he handed her a bottle of whiskey and told her to have at it. "I forgot what I was gonna say."

Fenris palmed his face and made a performance out of sighing. "This was a waste of time."

"She's going to say yes." Isabela offered. "You know that, right?"

"And what makes you so sure of that? Because I'm such a catch? Former Tevinter slave, fugitive of every city I've ever stepped foot in, not a penny to my name...No, nothing to worry about. I can hear the Chantry bells now. Hallelujah." he rolled his eyes.

Isabela sat beside him, waving the barkeep over. He nodded in her general direction but went about what he was doing. She slammed a coin down on the bar and that finally got the man's attention. "I'll have something stiff." she winked. "Oh, and a drink for my friend here."

"I'm not thirsty."

"That's hardly the point." Isabela laughed. "I've never seen you so high-strung before and that's saying something. You're really worried, aren't you?"

"What gave it away? The perspiration or the look of stark terror in my eyes?"

"Relax. Everything is going to be fine."

"Do you have something useful to say? Aveline's advice is looking more and more attractive by comparison."

"Only this: whatever you plan on doing, lose your shirt beforehand."

The barkeep reappeared with his drink and Isabela turned to resume her flirtation in earnest. He shook his head in defeat. "I might have known better."

"Why don't you ask Bethany?" Donnic asked.

"That's actually not a bad idea." Fenris cocked his head to the side.

"I'm known to have those from time to time." Donnic said.

Fenris drank deep from his ale. It was better than Isabela's grog, but not by much. He left the rest for Isabela to finish and made his way toward Bethany's room.

He was surprised and a little annoyed to see Lazarus leaning over her on the bed.

"And that's your first stitch."

"That was easy!"

"You're a natural." he smiled. "Now do it again."

He couldn't help but feel reminded of his reading lessons with Hawke: the candlelight, the closeness, the gentle encouragement. Those moments were so intimate that he still associated reading with Hawke's scent and the ache of quiet longing. To be so close to her and not be able to touch her was maddening. The idea of someone thinking about Bethany in this way stirred custodial feelings in him. He coughed loudly to get their attention.

"Fenris, come right in." Bethany smiled. "Laz was just teaching me to embroider."

"In bed?" he asked.

"Seemed like a better place than down by the bar. Too noisy there."

"Hmph."

"Did you need something, Fenris?" she asked.

"Yes, but it can wait."

"Oh, I don't mind." Lazarus said. "I'll give you two a moment. Let me know when you're done."

Fenris sat down at the shoddy desk, crossing and uncrossing his arms over his chest. This was harder than he thought it would be. "I need your advice." he said finally.

"About Marian?"

"I was planning on...I'm going to propose to her."

"That's wonderful, Fenris! I'm so excited for you! Oh, I'm sure she'll be thrilled."

"I am not so sure."

"Of course she will! She loves you!"

"Yes, well...let us hope that's enough."

"So what did you need me for? My blessing?"

He chuckled. "It might help."

"You have my permission to ask for my dear sister's hand in marriage. Now, what else?"

"How does one...how should I go about this? I have a ring but my words fail me. Everything I can think of just seems so cheap."

"Just say how you feel."

He sighed. "I want it to be special for her."

"It will be. Just make sure that whatever you say comes from the heart. And wine, wine always helps."

"That's a given. Anything else?"

She looked around the room. "Candles. Maybe a nice dinner?"

"This is becoming rather extravagant." he said. "Should I remove my shirt as well?"

Bethany giggled. "It couldn't hurt."

"I'll consider what you've said." he sighed. "Is there something going on with you and Lazarus?"

"I saw that look you gave him when you came in. You don't have to fret over me, though. I can take care of myself. My maidenhood is still in tact."

"Not for long, judging by the looks he gives you."

"Laz is a perfect gentleman."

"If you say so. Just be careful. I'd rather not kill him."

"Thanks, Fenris. That's...sweet. I think."

"Thank you for your help."

He closed the door behind him and nodded for Lazarus to go back to their lesson. The mage clearly struggled to contain his excitement.

* * *

The night before they embarked, Fenris decided it was time. Somehow he'd kept it a secret from Hawke or, if she knew, she didn't say anything. He talked the innkeeper into parting with some extra candles and set out a tray of fruit and cheese and a loaf of fresh, soft bread and sweet butter. He purchased two bottles of smooth Antivan wine he'd sampled in the square. He'd probably paid more than he should have, knowing Hawke's inability to detect fine wine from grape juice. He wasn't sure about the shirt idea, but he removed it anyway, hoping it would give him some kind of edge, as though this were a game and he merely needed to outmaneuver her. He sighed and spread out on the bed. Now came the waiting.

Hawke had taken to babysitting Anders like an infant and he could only imagine how awkward that must be for both of them. Most of the time when he visited, they were playing chess or cards, anything to keep the stress down, but they both looked like they would rather be dead. There were several more incidents since the last, but none of them had been violent, at least. At the end of the night, she would trudge back to their room, exhausted and Fenris would spend a few moments with her before she fell asleep.

But that night, he had arranged for Varric to take over her watch, so that he and Hawke could spend some time alone with good food, good wine and peace and quiet.

It was not a glamorous room by any stretch of the imagination, but hopefully the extra touches would not go unnoticed. At least it was quiet, which led him to believe it captured the noise inside as well. There were locks on the door, so they would have a modicum of privacy. If all went according to plan, they would need it.

At last, the door swung open and Hawke stumbled in and sat at her desk. It was a moment before she noticed that something was going on or even that she wasn't alone. First, she caught the aroma of the bread and lifted her nose to the scent. Then she noticed the candles and a second or two later, the half naked elf on her bed. She smiled.

"So this was your doing?" she said. "If I spent one more minute in that room, I might've gone insane myself. Maker, but I love you."

He chuckled and handed her a glass of wine off of the reading table. "Seleny Reserva. It's silky with hints of..." then remembering that Hawke didn't "get" these descriptors went with "It's very good."

She laughed and in her most posh voice said "_Bully_!"

"Hmmm." he said in mock disapproval. "There are chocolates for you later."

"Candles, sweetmeats, 'very good' wine...what did you do wrong? And if that's not it, what did I do right?"

He snorted. "Perhaps I simply enjoy lavishing you with gifts of excess."

She considered it for a moment. "No, that's not it. Do you owe Varric more money?"

"No."

"Is it my birthday?"

"No."

"Did you get drunk and have sex with Isabela?"

"No! Absolutely not."

"Then what is it? Why are you so magnificently topless and opulent this evening?"

"All shall be revealed in due time." She eyed him suspiciously. "Why must you be so paranoid? I simply wish to do something nice for you. Do I have your leave to do so?"

"I do love surprises. Carry on, then." She tossed her head back and took an unseemly gulp of wine. Fenris did not even wince. He'd come to expect so much from his Fereldan lover.

"Is it to your liking?"

"Tastes _very nice_." she said. "Although, I must say it's taking all my resistance not to lunge for that cheese platter. I'm half starved."

He laughed. "Feel free to indulge yourself."

She brought the tray back to the bed and laid out beside him. "Thank you, by the way." she said with her mouth full of bread.

"It was nothing."

"You're a terrible liar."

He settled back and watched her devour her food like a starved Mabari. Then when she was done he set the tray aside and reached for the brush. "Turn around."

"Why?"

"So I can brush your hair."

"Alright, now I know something's wrong." she said, but complied. Gently and softly he began brushing her hair. "Nggghhhhhh"

He smirked. "Good, I wondered if I was doing this right."

"If your intention is to put me to sleep, yes. But I do get the distinct feeling that you wanted to talk after the lavishing was done."

"True. Keep your eyes open."

"But it's so relaxing." she yawned.

"If you fall asleep I'll have to stop and you won't get the last gift."

"There's more?!"

"Just one." he said.

"I expect you'll want something in return for all your generosity."

"We'll see."

She sighed and leaned back against him. "You know what playing with my hair does to me."

He smirked and whispered directly in her ear. "Does it have a similar effect to my voice?"

"Maker's breath, I've figured it out. _You're trying to kill me._ You're trying to lull me into a false sense of security and then when I least expect it, you'll kill me. That was your plan all along, wasn't it?"

"Since the very beginning, Hawke. It's all been a clever ruse."

"You're simultaneously the worst and best assassin in Thedas."

"Are you sufficiently lavished, yet?" he asked.

"I don't know. Where are my minstrels? My diamond encrusted chamber-pot? My crown?"

He sighed. "You certainly put patience to the test sometimes."

"I was only kidding. Everything's lovely, Fenris. If we end this night with a couple of orgasms, I'll think I've inherited a kingdom somewhere."

"I'll definitely keep that in mind." he cocked an eyebrow at her. "But here you've distracted me."

"Right, the bad news. Go on then."

"What? I told you, nothing's wrong."

"Then what's this about?"

He took a deep breath and took her by the hand. "Hawke, I..." And of course, a knock came at the door.

"Just a second, Fenris." she said and stood to see what was the matter.

Varric stood staring at his feet in the hall. "Varric, aren't you supposed to be watching Anders?"

"Yeah...about that...he might have gone batshit and run away."

"WHAT?!" Hawke screeched. "Dear Maker! We've got to find him!"

She grabbed her axe and ran out the door, leaving Fenris alone in their bed, surrounded by candles and thumbing a ring that should have been on her finger by then. He took another sip of the wine, much too decadent to drink alone, plopped back onto his pillow and fell asleep.


	16. Embroidery

**And now, a fluffy intermission from the insanity that is crazy Anders. I'm glad Lazarus has gotten such a positive response. He's a lot of fun to write. :) Enjoy!**

**Lazarus**

"You're doing wonderfully." he said.

She beamed. "How do you do that?" she asked, running her fingers along a row of red stitches on his sleeve. His breath caught at her touch and he nearly ended up in another coughing fit.

"Ah that, that's er...feather stitch. Let me show you." he reached for her needle and promptly jabbed himself in the thumb.

"Oh no! Look what I've done." she gasped, grabbing a rag off her bedside table. She took him by the hand and began applying gentle pressure to the area. "I'm so sorry, Laz. I've always been so clumsy."

"I find that hard to believe. Besides, I did it to myself." he said. "And that's lesson two. Be careful around pointy things."

She laughed melodiously. "I'll try to remember next time." Her eyes met his and despite his shyness he considered leaning in and kissing her, but even the thought made him blush and he was forced to look away. "Is everything alright?"

"Don't mind me." he said. "What about you? This can't be fun for you."

"And why not?"

"I believe we had this discussion. It's thread. It's just not all that interesting."

"Maybe I just enjoy your company."

"Maybe you're shy. Maybe you enjoy my company. You like to keep me guessing, don't you?" he chuckled. "It must work. I often find myself wondering, who is this strange woman who stabs me in the thumb with needles and thinks shopping for thread is an adventure?"

"Often?"

"Well, you know..." he felt his face grow warm.

"Mmmhmm." she laughed and peeked under the rag. "Well, it's stopping bleeding."

"Hm? Oh yes, that. Maker's breath, what a relief. It was really touch and go for a moment there."

"I could go get Anders if you're still worried." she teased.

"No no, from my understanding he's just as likely to eat it as heal it these days. Anyway, I'm sure you're more than capable enough to heal my embroidery wound."

"Thanks for doing this, Laz."

"For bleeding all over your cloth? No problem. I'm full of the stuff."

She slapped him in the arm. "You know what I meant."

"I do." he smiled. "And there's no reason to thank me. Maybe I enjoy your company as well." This was met with a pregnant silence and an exchange of furtive glances. Lazarus couldn't read her expression, but even he could sense the chemistry in the room. His heart quickened and he worried it would burst through his chest and land in her lap and she would scream, because that's what most people do when they're suddenly and inexplicably drenched in blood.

Then there was a shriek followed by a crashing of glassware coming from down the stairs.

"What do you think that was?" she asked.

"I don't know. I could go have a look."

"I could come with you..."

"Maybe you should stay back. It could be danger, knowing your group."

"Alright, but be careful." she said. "Don't try to be a hero." He nodded at her and snuck downstairs. Isabela caught sight of him immediately and flagged him over.

"What's going on?"

"Anders escaped." she rolled her eyes. "I'm more interested in what's happening upstairs. I heard you finally got Bethany in bed. Spill it, Peaches."

"W-what? No, it's nothing like that! I was just teaching her to embroider."

"I've never heard that one before. Teaching her to embroider..." she purred. "No, even I can't make that into a euphemism."

"Well, anyway, I should probably get back to it."

"Fine, go back to your boring needlecraft. If you're interested in some real lessons, however, you know where to find me."

He sighed and ascended back up the stairs to Bethany's room. _So it's Peaches now._ He rolled his eyes. _She has to run out of these ridiculous nicknames eventually, doesn't she?_

Bethany was bent over her project with her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth and he couldn't help but think how adorable she was when she didn't know anyone was watching her, and then he felt a little voyeuristic so he spoke. "Just Anders again." he said. "He's run off, apparently."

"That's awful! Is he alright?"

"Don't worry. He buggered off several times when I was with him and always ended up coming back."

"Well, that's a relief." she said scooting over and patting an area next to her on the bed.

"It's getting a little late, isn't it? Will Hawke put me in the corner if I break curfew with you?" He asked. "Not that I'm not having a good time, but I do have a healthy fear of women with giant axes."

"Please don't go. I'm not tired."

"Well, you did ask nicely." he said, claiming the seat next to her, still warm from her body. This close to her, he could distinctly make out the complex aroma of blood orange and vanilla on her skin, and it was hardly any surprise to him that she smelled as beautiful as she was.

"Do you ever miss your family, Laz?"

The question caught him off guard. "Why do you ask?"

She set aside her project and stared straight ahead. "I was just thinking about my father and how much he would have liked you."

"You think so?"

"I know so. You have a similar sense of humor. Father always knew how to make me smile. Like you."

"It's easy enough to do, Beth." he blushed. "You smile all the time."

"Maybe you're just good at it." she sighed. "I miss him."

This was a new side of Bethany for Laz. She seemed by nature to be a positive, happy person. He wanted to comfort her, but he was unsure of how to do so without overstepping. "I never met my family. They left me in the Chantry when I was born and I was sent to the Circle when I was five. All the same, I'm sorry about your father, Bethany."

"Thank you." she sniffed. "Now I've gone and ruined the whole evening with my whining. I'm sorry."

"Someone much smarter than me once said that you should never apologize for being you." he said, and emboldened by the need to make her feel better, he took her hand in his. She sank against him, her head lolling onto his shoulder. After a second or two of indecision he rested his own head atop hers and noted just how right that felt.

* * *

He woke sometime later with her still reclined against him. Her quiet, even breathing almost lulled him back to sleep, but he had the sense to remember that he liked his life, and there were two overprotective warriors in the next room. He eased her back onto her pillow and pulled the covers over her, then he took a moment to gaze down at her soft face and curl a wayward tendril of hair around her ear. She nuzzled against his hand and made a breathy sleep sound that almost sounded like his name. With great reluctance, he snuffed out the candles and left her to sleep.

He retreated to his room and spent some time staring at the ceiling, wondering what it might feel like to kiss her, just once. Other flights of fancy slipped through his brain, most involving settling down in Orlais with four children and an old Mabari chasing them through dandelion fields, but in the end he found he was satisfied with the idea of a kiss. Just one.


	17. Madness

_**I have to hand it to anyone who writes mentally ill characters, it is definitely not easy. In this case, Anders is supposed to be suffering from some kind of damage to the cerebral cortex of his brain, particularly in the temporal lobe. I'm not a doctor or a medical student, however, so if it's not quite right, I apologize. What's causing his craziness is another matter altogether. We'll get to that later. **_

_**I would like to take a second to say 'thank you' to my beta reader, Mzblondie09. You are indispensable to me, dear, I hope you know that. :D**_

_**And now, without further ado, crazy Anders, for your consideration.**_

**Anders**

He could hear them coming, _the fiends_. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? He ducked into an alley and trembled in the dark. He could hear the voices of his friends, but he knew they were imposters, devils in disguise. Shadows passed through the light one by one and the sounds of footsteps got further and further away until all that was left was the sounds of the ocean crashing on the shore.

_Quiet!_ He thought. At last he could have a moment without all the screaming and shrieking of monstrous things, the pointing of clawed fingers and the accusations. He sank against the wall, allowing his eyes to drift shut for just a moment. Surely nothing bad would happen if he slept for just a moment?

And then he realized with shame that he'd left Hawke in that place with those beasts! His eyes snapped open. He needed to rescue her, his poor, sweet Hawke. He needed to get her to safety. He ran as fast as he could, dodging passerbys and the curious looks they gave him. They opened their mouths to speak, but the sounds that came out were not words. Some whistled like water boiling in a kettle or cawed like crows or gonged like great brass bells, but no human noises could be heard for miles.

Trees flailed and thrashed in the wind and clutched at him. The earth below him cracked and threatened to swallow him up into the bowels of the earth. The sky streaked with lightning and sea monsters taunted him from behind a blanket of waves. A cacophony of night beasts screeched and hooted and howled in the distance and the sound of drums could be distinctly heard, but the drummer could never be seen.

"Be safe, my love. I am on my way." Anders whispered into the chilly night air. He could see the Dagger and Flagon up ahead, so he sprinted toward it and threw the doors open with a heaving breath. But there was no time to rest. Goblins at the bar laughed and cackled at him, he had to move quickly.

A white dog with wicked teeth and forked tongue chased him up the stairs and down the hall, howling and biting at his heels. It's tail was ablaze with an unnatural blue fire.

Finally he reached Hawke's room and flung the doors open. To his horror, she wasn't there, only blood. Blood everywhere. No skin, no bones to piece together to build her anew, no lips to kiss goodbye, only blood.

"No!" he cried. "Hawke, what have they done to you?!" He fell into a corner and waited for his imminent doom, not caring any longer what happened to him. In fact, he hoped the demons would kill him. His life had no meaning anymore. He must have spent hours crying alone in that corner, begging the Void to take him.

"Anders?" a soft voice came from the doorway. "Oh, Maker. There's wine everywhere! What am I going to do with you?"

"Go away." he said. "Go away, not today. Anders isn't here."

"Are you alright? I was worried sick."

"Go away, not today." he sang. "Go away, not today."

Warm arms enveloped him and fingers worked their way into his hair. A woman's voice shushed him and held his head against her soft bosom. This he could remember. He was just a boy then, but he remembered this impossible thing, this beloved thing. He was allowed to keep it.

"It's alright, Anders. You're safe now."

"I tried to save her, but I couldn't."

"Who? Who did you try to save?"

"Hawke. I tried to save her but I couldn't. I love her so."

"I'm right here. Look at me, Anders. I'm fine."

He lifted his head and he saw this impossible thing, the imaginary woman from his dreams and she was caressing him and telling him everything would be alright. "M-mother?"

"Don't you recognize me? It's me, Hawke."

"Hawke?"

"See? Everything's just fine. It was all just a bad dream. Time to sleep."

"A dream." he whispered, his heart bursting with relief. "My Hawke is safe?"

"Yes."

"I love her so."

"I know, Anders." she murmured, a tear sliding down her nose. "I know."

He wiped away her tear with his finger. "Don't cry. You look silly when you cry."

"Sorry." she laughed.

"You'll tell her that I love her, won't you? Tell her not to worry when I'm gone. Tell her _'it will destroy everything. It must be absorbed.'_"

"Of course." she said, lifting him up in her strong arms.

She carried him back to his room and laid him gently out onto his bed, shucking his boots and coat and pulling the blankets over him. "Sleep now."

"Goodnight, mother." he said into the dark as she snuffed the candle out beside him, but she didn't leave. She just sat with him all night while he slept. _Father will be cross with her in the morning._

* * *

Hawke was dead asleep when he woke, still slumped over in the desk chair with her hair mussed and stuck to her face. He couldn't remember what happened the night before. He remembered playing cards with Varric and then the rest was either a dream or his worst nightmare. That Hawke was there could only be a bad sign. His head still pulsed with pain.

"Wake up, love." he shook her gently by the shoulder. "Let's get you to bed, before Fenris discovers you and kills me."

"Hmmm? Fenris?" she sighed sleepily.

"Ehm, no." he said. "Come on, off to bed with you." he bent to lift her in his arms. She gave a soft noise of protest and nuzzled into his neck and he nearly considered laying her out on his bed and crawling in next to her. But no, that was a horrifically bad idea, even as far as his ideas usually went.

He knocked on the door, not wanting to walk in on Fenris if he wasn't decent. A grumble came from the other side and within a minute or so, the elf appeared with no shirt on, rubbing his eyes and scratching his muscled, marked chest. "What?"

"Er, yes. She fell asleep at my desk last night. I thought you might want her back."

Fenris took in the scene as it unfolded before him. No doubt, he would assume the worst as long as Anders was involved. "She...? You mean..._with you_? Last night?"

"Nothing happened, of course. I think I had another episode. She was just being kind, like always."

"I see." he sighed. "I suppose I should be glad she's safe."

"All in one piece this time."

"That is good to hear, at least. Hawke, time to wake up."

"Mmmm, Fenris..." she purred into his chest, her fingers grasping at the fabric of his tunic, hips rocking.

Anders laughed nervously. "Ah, yeah. She's out pretty cold."

"So it seems." Fenris growled. "I can take it from here."

"Here. She's heavy." he said, handing her off.

Fenris examined her for a moment, then seemingly satisfied by her condition, he turned back to Anders. "We should be leaving by noon, if I'm not mistaken. Should you need something before then, Lazarus is in the room at the end of the hall. I assume you are lucid enough to pack your own belongings?"

"For the moment, yes. Not that there's much to pack."

"Work on that, then." he said.

"Look, I never got the chance to thank you...you know, for coming."

"No need. I am not doing it for you." he said and closed the door in Anders' face.


	18. Plenary Indulgence

**"Hawke's Theme - Duty, Shame : Metric - Blindness**

**Hawke**

Fenris seemed on edge lately. Hawke guessed it was the prospect of returning to his homeland. She assured him they would not go near Minrathous if at all possible, but he simply waved her away and said he was fine. Sometimes he opened his mouth like he was about to say something but then he would close it again, as though he'd thought better of it.

It hurt a little that he didn't confide his feelings in her, but she knew it wasn't due to a lack of trust, moreso a lack of ability to express himself. Still, he kept close to her, never pulling away from her touch, never denying her his kiss, always ready to tell her that he loved her. She thought about her year of cold insolence and decided that perhaps he was, at least in that way, more emotionally evolved than she was now.

"Strong winds." she said. "Won't be long before we reach Qarinus."

"Hmm." he said.

"Do you think they'll have what we're looking for?"

"Hmm." he said again. He wasn't really listening.

"I'm pregnant. I'm keeping it. Anders is the father." she said dryly.

"Hmmmmm."

"Fenris?"

"Hm?"

"Where are you?"

He turned to her with a pained expression. "Sometimes I wonder myself." He leaned in, pulling her hair off her face and pressing a kiss into her cheek. "I am sorry. I will try to be more present."

"I worry about you."

"You needn't. I am just a bit preoccupied." He reached into his pouch and fiddled with whatever was in it then pulled his hand out.

"You still haven't told me what you wanted to talk about the other night. Is that what's got you so distracted? Do you want to talk in private?"

"No!" he shouted, then cleared his throat. "No, not yet. You'll find out soon enough, Hawke. I promise."

"Look, I can't imagine what this trip is doing to you, but..."

"It is confusing me, mostly." he admitted.

"What about it?"

He leaned up against the rail and crossed his legs at the ankles. "Your loyalty is the stuff of legends, it seems. I know you would never abandon a friend but...this is excessive even for you."

She sighed and sat down on a crate, staring at her hands. "It isn't about loyalty, Fenris. I mean, that's a part of it, but not a large part. Not anymore."

"Then what is it about? Do not tell me you still harbor feelings for that creature. Do I even want to know?"

"It's definitely nothing like that." she stepped toward him and drew his arms around her from across his chest. He gazed at her inquisitively. "I'm strong, Fenris. I'm a warrior."

"That explains everything."

She gave him an exasperated look. "My father always told me that when you're strong, you have a responsibility to take care of the weak."

"But when is enough enough?"

"Just listen." she said. "Look at all the things I've failed to protect- Carver and mother, Kirkwall, my home. They're all gone. There's nothing I can do about them now. It's too late for me to save them. But Anders...if I can help him, perhaps I can finally find peace with my failures."

"You are seeking absolution for sins you never committed, crimes you are innocent of. None of that was your fault."

"It was and it wasn't. Have you ever heard of a Plenary Indulgence?" she asked.

"I've heard of it, but I can't say I understand the concept."

She laughed. "Don't feel bad, it's a highly controversial topic in the Chantry. The Divine likes to keep things confusing for the rest of us. Anyway, according to the Chant of Light, the Maker has already forgiven the faithful for their mortal sins before they have been committed, but that does not absolve a person of their punishment. We all must atone for our misdeeds in this life or the next, a cleansing of fire, so to speak."

"Absurd."

"I'm inclined to agree with you, but that's besides the point. Basically, Indulgences are a way to be pardoned of the need for temporal punishment through good acts and prayer."

He nodded. "I see. You are trying to help the abomination as a sort of penance for a punishment you perceive yourself to be suffering for sins you did not commit. Is that correct?"

"Sounds stupid when you say it like that."

"It is rather morbid, Hawke." He threaded his fingers through hers. "And what if things do not work out as you intended? What if the mage is beyond help? What if fixing him does not give you the redemption you seek?"

"I'm not doing this for the Maker, Fenris. I'm doing it for myself. This guilt is a prison, constantly thinking about what I could have done, what I should have done. It needs to end."

"I do not think I am meant to understand." he said.

"Perhaps not, but I thank you for supporting me nonetheless."

"Always." he kissed her on the forehead.

"Now that you know, can we put an end to all this brooding?"

He fell silent for a while. "That is not why I have been distracted."

"Then why?"

He frowned. "We will talk more later." and began to walk away.

"Fenris?"

He inclined his head toward her. "Hm?"

"I still need you."

"I am yours, Hawke." he smiled ever-so-slightly and shook his head. "Anders is the father. That was a nice touch." She grinned and watched him depart into the galley, confident that he would talk when he was ready. If there was one thing she could always rely on, it was Fenris' word.

* * *

Anders' condition continued to slowly deteriorate. They split the watches within the group, rotating shifts between all the people who could tolerate being alone with him, namely Hawke, Varric, Bethany and Lazarus. At times he was completely unresponsive, staring blankly at the walls or going into fetal position and rocking himself gently. Other times he would talk like a child and cry for his mother. The worst was when he screamed. There were nights when he screamed and screamed until he either forgot what he was screaming about or lost his voice altogether. He did have moments of clarity, though they were few and far between, and they were normally when Hawke was around.

But being near him was too much for her. It was too difficult to see him devolve into some kind of freakish maniac and, when he was lucid, it was even worse. She could tell how utterly humiliated he was that he needed someone to constantly watch him and she couldn't hide her fear from him because she _was_ terrified. She was afraid he was beyond fixing and she was afraid he was going to hurt someone. They both knew it, though she'd never say so much to him.

Then she woke in the middle of the night to Lazarus shaking her violently. "You'd better come quick." was all he said.

She leapt out of bed and scrambled to sick bay. Lazarus held the door open for her, shaking his head ominously. She was not prepared for what she saw.

"I can't do it anymore." he sobbed.

"Anders? What's going on?"

He lifted his hands into the air, blood trickled down his arms, pooling in the crook of his elbows. "I'm sorry, love. I can't. I just can't."

"Lazarus, get Bethany! Hurry!" she yelled. "Anders, what have you done?" She fell to the floor, grasping his hands, wresting the broken piece of glass from his clutch. "Is this blood magic?"

"It is a darker magic than even that."

"Surely you don't mean..."

"I know you said it would be alright, but look at me, love. Look at what I am. I was never alright to begin with."

"This isn't real. Your mind is playing tricks on you again."

"My head is clear. This is me talking right now. I'm telling you that this needs to end. _I_ need to end."

"You know I won't let that happen."

"If you ever loved me, you'll let me die, Hawke. I'm begging you."

"Believe what you want, but know this: I am _not_ going to let you die. I failed you once, but this time I won't. I am going to get you help. This I vow. You just have to hold on a little longer."

"I don't know if I can."

"You have to try. For me. What will it take to get you to promise me you won't try again?"

"Stay." he said, after a moment or so. "I know I have no right to ask that after all I've done, and I know you belong to him, but just stay tonight."

"Anders..."

"When you're around, I'm not afraid. I feel safe."

She sighed and nodded. "Just for tonight."

Bethany panted as she rushed through the threshold. "I came as quickly as I could. Is he alright?"

"Thank the Maker! Heal him and keep this quiet, if you please."

"Of course." Bethany knelt in front of him, her healing magic flowing over his wrists.

"Thank you for coming, Bethany." Anders said quietly. There was a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

"It's no trouble." then after a while she sagged on her heels and said "There. You could probably do better, but this will do for now, won't it?"

"Thanks, sis." Hawke said, giving a sigh of relief. "I owe you."

"Call me if you need me." she said, closing the door behind her.

Hawke sank into a chair in the corner of the room. It was comfortable enough, but she missed Fenris and her bed. Anders watched her from his spot on the floor.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"A bit."

He stood and crossed the room to drape a blanket over her. It smelled like medicine and gave little in the way of warmth. She couldn't help but think that if she was next to Fenris, she would be warm.

"Hawke?" she turned to him. He was settling into his cot, his eyes swollen from crying and his mouth drawn into a tight frown. "When you wake tomorrow, I don't know who you'll find in this bed and that frightens me."

"Don't worry about me."

"I just want you to know that when I'm me, or what's left of me, I love you. And I'll still love you just as long as a piece of me still exists."

"Anders, stop talking like that. I told you, we're going to fix you."

"When you say it with such conviction I can almost believe you."

* * *

Anders was still asleep when she awoke. She was thankful for it. It was freezing in sick bay and all she wanted was to crawl into bed next to Fenris. She had a crick in her neck from sleeping wrong and she felt no more rested than she did seven hours prior.

No one noticed her on her way back to her cabin. Although she was completely innocent, she didn't feel like explaining that to every nosey person on the ship. The door creaked open and Fenris jolted up, hissing at the sudden flood of light in the room. "Hawke?"

"Morning." she said climbing in bed beside him.

His arms encircled her, pulling her against him. "You are freezing." he said, kissing her neck. "Your feet are like ice."

"A night in sick bay will do that to a person."

"Pardon?"

"Anders begged me to stay with him last night."

"And you complied?"

She sighed. "He's a mess, Fenris. I don't know how much more I can put up with this. I'm at wit's end."

"I don't much relish the idea of you sleeping in the same room with him, myself."

"I slept in a chair that smelled like herbs with a tattered blanket and no back support. The sad part is it looked marginally more comfortable than the cots. Anders kept me up half the night crying. Trust me, were I to cheat on you, it would not be with crazy Anders and it would not be there." Fenris grumbled. "I was joking! You know I would never do such a thing."

"I am glad to hear it." he said. "I would prefer you did not sleep there in the future, however. It is not you I worry about."

"Even when he's a nutter he knows better than to try anything."

"Then he is smarter than I thought."

"Sometimes."

"Are you...is everything alright?"

She kissed the back of his hand, settling further against him and yawning. He was mercifully warm and she could feel herself beginning to drift off already. "Now it is. Now that I'm with you."

He hummed to himself, smiling against the back of her neck. "Hawke?" he asked softly into her skin.

"Yes?" then after a few moments of silence. "Fenris?"

He sighed. "Nevermind me. It is early yet. Get some rest."


	19. Truth or Dare?

**For those of you who are interested in that sort of thing, I made a soundtrack for this story as an exercise to keep me motivated. Periodically you will see chapters with an artist and a song listed either at the beginning or at the end. All of these songs are on youtube, if you want to hear them. I have updated past chapters with these songs, but to save you some work:**

**Hawke keeps Fenris waiting "Then I shall Wait" (chapter 1): Bowery Electric - Lushlife**

**Hawke's done brooding "No More Excuses" (chapter 6): Bear McCreary - Passacaglia (BSG fans will recognize this one.)**

******Bethany and Laz romance theme "[Py]Romance" (chapter 10): Maybeshewill - Red Paper Lanterns**

**Anders' theme "Not Quite Right" (chapter 12): Massive Attack - Angel**

**Hawke's theme "Duty, Shame" (chapter 18): Metric - Blindness**

**Fenris**

Fenris frowned. Not only had he failed to propose to Hawke, despite all his careful planning and preparations, but he'd failed to propose to her since his original failure. The repercussions of which were a very concerned Hawke and a ring that was becoming heavier and heavier in his pocket each day.

Despite their group's tendency to talk, she was still none the wiser, but they didn't make it easy on him. The looks of frustration, wringing hands, furrowed brows, thumbs up were enough to make him wish he'd never said anything in the first place. The only thing that was worse was not knowing what her answer would be.

Then, there was this business with Anders. He couldn't seriously imagine she could be unfaithful, least of all with Anders in his current incarnation, but waking up to her trudging in from sick bay had hit home more than he wanted to admit. She belonged in _his_ bed beside _him_, but he didn't own her. He wouldn't want to if he could. He had no compelling argument to keep her from going there every night if she so desired. Not unless he actually went through with asking her to marry him. That was seeming less and less likely to happen anytime soon. The timing was all wrong. It always was.

Hawke lurched and toppled over onto him. He helped her back on her feet, then seeing the state she was in, hooked a stabilizing arm around her waist. She shoved the bottle of grog at his chest, grinning like a fool. He wrenched it from her grip and lifted it to his lips, drinking deep and finishing with one of his legendary scowls.

"Vile." he said, because it was. Then the aftertaste washed over his throat, causing him to shudder. He held the bottle to eye-level and turned to Isabela with an accusatory glare. "Did you..._no_, it can't be." he took another sip. "You did, didn't you?"

"Did what?" she asked.

"You added more cinnamon to the recipe since last time! Why?! Why would you do such a thing?!" He thrust it into Donnic's arms, eager to be rid of the foul liquid. "You are never to offer this to me again, Hawke. Do you understand me? Never. It is an insult to my senses." Hawke just grinned stupidly, her eyes drooping a little at the corners.

"Then don't drink it. Simple as that." Isabela said. "I can't afford that fancy-pants grape juice you love so much."

"So you paid for that sickening melange of cinnamon and poison? Somehow I seriously doubt that, but even if you did, you could have stolen a bottle of wine. That is what pirates do, is it not? The good ones, anyway."

"Oh, quit moaning, elf." Varric said. "A little more and you won't even care what's in it."

"I doubt that too." he sighed.

Hawke laughed riotously at this for several minutes straight and he knew better than to ask her why. He was willing to bet she didn't even know the answer to that. When it was no longer entertaining Isabela tapped her on the shoulder. "Truth or dare?"

"Really? Must we do this?" he asked, still annoyed about the grog.

"Why not?" Isabela said. "Not much else to do at the moment."

"If you want to act like giggling teenagers, be my guest. I'll have no part of it."

"It could be fun." Merrill said.

"It's not like we have anything better to do." Aveline said.

"Dare." Hawke said. A dozen equally threatening expressions crossed Isabela's face in rapid succession.

"You will come to regret that decision." Fenris said.

"I dare you to kiss me." Isabela said.

"Or I will." he growled. This night was going downhill very quickly. "No. Absolutely not. It is out of the question."

"Oh come on. I promise I won't try anything inappropriate."

"I don't believe you."

"I'll hold my hands up like this the whole time."

"Even if the idea didn't thoroughly disgust me, which it does, she is drunk. You are taking advantage. The answer is..." But before he could finish that thought Hawke had already pushed off him and bent the pirate back, kissing her to the sound of raucous cheers. Isabela took her by the hand and they both took a flourishing bow before their audience. All Fenris could do was stare aghast at them.

Hawke retook her place beside Fenris and he curled around her protectively. "Was that necessary?" he hissed in her ear.

"No, but this is." she said, smacking Isabela hard on the ass. They exchanged conspiratorial glances like a pair of naughty children.

"Maybe I should give you two a moment alone." he grumbled under his breath. Both Hawke and Isabela erupted in laughter. Now he was starting to feel hurt. He tightened his grip around her waist.

"I was only joking, Fenris. You can release your death grip."

"I know I _can_, but should I? I am not so sure." but he relaxed against her, pressing a kiss into her cheek for good measure.

"Merrill, truth or dare?"

"Dare! I hope it's something fun."

Hawke crossed the deck, grabbing the bottle of grog from Varric and handing it to the Dalish girl. "I dare you to drink this."

From where Fenris was standing, there wasn't that much left in the bottle, but Merrill was petite. It would be more than enough to get her completely sauced. She smiled and snatched up the bottle, then threw her head back and drained it down her throat. "Oh my, that's very strong." she said with a diminutive belch. "And very cinnamony."

"I told you." Fenris said to Isabela, wrapping his arms around Hawke from behind. The pirate waved him off.

"Varric, truth or dare?" Merrill asked.

"Truth." The entire deck groaned all at once. "What?"

"This is going to end up being one of your long-winded stories and not a word of it will be even remotely true." Hawke said.

"Hawke, I'm hurt. The lying part was spot on, but I'm perfectly capable of answering a question in a clear and concise manner."

"Have you ever been in love?" Merrill asked.

"Picture it; Antiva City, summertime, sunset. A warm breeze blows gently through my chest hair..."

"This might take a while." Hawke said to Fenris.

"I am still upset with you."

"And how long will that last?"

"Until you stop smelling like her. The scent of whore overpowers even the cinnamon, apparently."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you really jealous of Isabela? It's _Isabela_, Fenris. She doesn't count."

"Hey! I heard that."

"Are you listening, Rivaini?" Isabela crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her tongue out at Hawke. Hawke made an obscene gesture back at her.

"Do it. I've paid good money for less." the pirate said, and was met with pointed glares from Varric and Fenris alike.

"You are not making a strong case for yourself." Fenris whispered in Hawke's ear, making a point to draw out the words and add extra breath and gravel. He figured that if she was too drunk to see reason, he could at least appeal to her sexuality. Hawke dug her nails into his arm reflexively and squirmed. He couldn't help but chuckle.

She snuggled against his chest. "It won't happen again." she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. He "hmph"ed in reply, but there was no real anger behind it. "I'll make it up to you tonight, I promise."

"Hmm. See that you do." Clearly his ploy had worked.

"...so to answer your question, Daisy. No, I've never been in love."

"By the balls of my ancestors, I thought you'd never shut up." Britta said, pulling on her hair.

"That's because you, my friend, are a lowbrow philistine." Varric said.

"And _you_, salroka, are an entitled fatass."

"Maker's breath! Will you two just shut up and hump already?" Isabela said. Fenris had to admit that he sometimes wondered if there wasn't some chemistry between those two. Time only seemed to strengthen their animosity toward each other, and they'd never had a kind word to say to one another to begin with. Sometimes it almost seemed like it was for show.

Both of their heads snapped back to look at Isabela with utter disgust. "You go too far, Rivaini. Between that image and the grog, I think I might lose my lunch."

"A lightweight too!' Britta threw her hands in the air. "And they say I'm a disgrace to our race."

"Or a hilarious caricature. Is that your own personal bottle of grog, Dust-bunny? Good on you for not being put-off by the lack of fungus."

"Dust-bunny? That's cute, Tethras. I guess you never got the memo. You're casteless too."

"True, very true. Only, I don't walk around with a chip on my shoulder like the world owes me reparations for it. You don't even need the tattoo, you give off an aura of persecution and bitterness."

"_You_ don't wear the brand! _You_ never had to cut purses just to stay alive! _You've_ never even lived in Orzammar! _You_ don't know how good you've got it!"

"If I may interject..." Hawke said.

"No!" Varric and Britta snapped in unison.

"Oh boohoo, so your life was bad. It's a shit world, sister. I don't like the way things work down there any more than you do, but you're on the surface now. You had plenty of time to make a life for yourself and screw it up like the rest of us, but you didn't. And who cares? Look around you, Dusty. Do you see any deshyrs? Any lords or Paragons? We're all equally screwed here. You can cry about it or you can enjoy the company like the rest of us. Whaddaya say?"

"I say you don't get to sodding judge me when you've lived such a privileged existence."

"I'm not your enemy, you know. Say, there's an idea. Why don't you take it up with Harrowmont, if you're so miffed?"

"Shut your ugly face."

"Mature. You know what? I give up." And with that Varric got up and walked away. Fenris did not miss the look of rage on Britta's face as he left. In fact, he was a little worried about Varric's safety until she stormed off in the other direction.

There was an uncomfortable silence that spanned several seconds. Donnic cleared his throat and everyone turned, hoping for some kind of distraction.

"Truth or dare, big girl?"

Aveline palmed her forehead. "Which of the two will I find less humiliating?"

"Truth it is. So, what's the nastiest thing you and Donnic have done?"

"Oh Maker, I think I'm done for the night." Donnic said. "I'll see you in the morning, love. Remember, what happens in Orlais..."

"You can't just ask that!" Aveline protested. "Ask something else."

"Fine. How big is his..."

"I'm done playing." she huffed and began following her husband. "Goodnight, everyone."

"I can scarcely blame her." Fenris said. "I grow tired of this circus myself. I think I'll retire." He looked at Hawke, an unspoken question in his eyes. He did not want to spoil her fun, but he did want her alone, and then perhaps they could make their own fun.

"I'm a little tired as well." she said in answer.

"Aww, you're no fun." Isabela groaned. "A few more drinks of that grog and you'd invite me to bed with you."

"Not in your wildest dreams." Fenris said. It was the truth, and it was not meant as an insult, but he truly did not care how she perceived it.

* * *

Hawke peeled away her soft breeches and joined him under the covers, her body still warm from the liquor and her breath scented with cinnamon and rum. "You are very possessive lately." she said running her fingers through the sensitive hairs on the back of his neck. He was unsure if it was a serious complaint or not, but judging by the twinkle in her eye, she was going to give him a hard time about it either way.

"Should I stop? You seem to enjoy the attention well enough."

"I'm just curious as to where all this excess testosterone is coming from. Is it an elf thing? A second puberty, perhaps?"

"Is it any wonder that I grow jealous? It takes merely a suggestion for you to stick your tongue down someone else's throat, or to sleep in someone else's room, I might add. This may be a controversial opinion, but I _do_ like to think that we are together. Exclusively."

"Have I neglected you, my sweet elf? I believe I tended to your needs this morning, no?"

"Is that what you call it?" he smirked, bemused by the recollection of their private moment earlier that day. "And just which of my needs were you tending to while you were screaming my name, I wonder? I received some rather impressed glances today and I would hate to take credit for your handiwork."

"You dodge the question. Did I or did I not _rock your world_ this morning?"

"Hmm. Three times." he admitted. "I fail to see how that is relevant, however. You do not see me doing such things. I daresay if I had kissed someone else there would be fewer people on this ship."

"No need to get defensive, lover. It was merely an observation." she said, throwing her arms around his neck. "It perked my interest."

"Is that so?"

"I thought it might have something to do with your recent bout of daydreaming."

"You could simply ask me. They are separate matters, if you wish to know."

"So you aren't simply lost in your head, imagining all the various ways you could brutally murder Anders?"

"Not any more than usual." He sighed. He hated that he was doing this to her. He knew firsthand what it was like to worry about a distant partner and he certainly did not wish that upon Hawke. "I know you must be troubled by my absence lately and I'm sorry. Some things require a delicate touch. You'll find out soon enough. Just trust me."

"'Just trust me.'" she repeated. "My, but that does sound foreboding. Last time someone said that to me I became the unwitting accomplice to the greatest and most infamous act of iconoclasm in the history of Thedas. You know how I feel about blasphemy, Fenris. 'Not on a Friday,' I told him. That's the day Varric and I play Diamondback. Bloody Anders never listens, I'll be damned if he didn't do it on a Friday..."

"It's nothing so treacherous, I assure you." he laughed. "You may even find yourself pleasantly surprised."

"Will there be more hair brushing? Oh, I hope so."

"Is this your not so subtle way of asking me to brush your hair? I do not mind."

"No, but hey, that's a great idea. You should do that."

"You are incorrigible." He reached for the brush off the desk and began running it through her hair, being careful not to hit any snags in the process.

"It's called drunk. I'm drunk, Fenris. The Maker won't smite you for saying it, I promise."

"You know what I mean, Hawke. I do not understand what makes you act like this, but at least it is entertaining."

"Variety is the spice of life, dear."

"So kissing other people is your way of changing things up?"

"Maker, but you _are_ stuck on that, aren't you? I told you, Fenris. Isabela doesn't count. You can kiss her too if you like. Will that make you feel better?"

"I'll pass, but I would like to point out that you have not kissed me even once tonight."

"Really?"

"No. Let alone with that much gusto. It was quite the show from where I was standing. There was a bow and everything."

"Now I feel just awful." she said, pulling the brush from his hands and climbing on top of him. "Tell you what, I am going to kiss every inch of your body and if by the time I'm done you still doubt where my affections lie, I will do it again and again and again."

His chest warmed at her touch as she stripped him of his clothing and proceeded to attempt to do just that, but she found his lips and he found hers and neither had any desire to pull away. Any notion of jealousy was put to bed with the taste of her. Hawke's kiss was patent and signature of her love, impossible to forge and written in a place no one could find but him.

Things quickly became heated.

So often he felt like their union blurred the lines between physical and spiritual. She was not his better half, not a puzzle-piece or a lock to his key. Neither Hawke nor he were half a person, but the entirety of both of them could sometimes combine to create something altogether better, more powerful than any force of nature.

But he sensed that "sometimes" would not include that night. Perhaps it was the liquor, or as Hawke put it, the testosterone, but that night he wanted for her like food or water or air. Something completely carnal, messy, _filthy._ He got a good idea in his head and crawled down her body, nudging at her mound behind her clothes. She didn't seem to object to the idea, splaying her legs widely for him to drink from her cup.

He teased her thighs with his tongue a little first, watching proudly as her back arched, a solitary finger tracing the lines of her smalls. He chuckled softly at her enthusiasm and frustrated, she grabbed him by the hair and forced him - face first - between her legs, giving him a mouth full of fabric. Evidently she was not in a teasing mood. He found that he was not troubled by that.

And then Merrill burst in through the door and Hawke jumped, startled, banging her head on the headboard in the process. He rolled off to the side to see what the cause of the disturbance was, scrambling to cover himself with the blankets. He silently mourned the loss of the stretch of white flesh on her inner thighs as she crossed them tightly in front of her.

"Ouch! Doesn't anyone knock around here? What, Merrill? What is it?"

"Hawke! Leth-hic...letha-hic..._my friend!_"

"State your business and leave, witch. We are busy." He was in no mood for this distraction. Hawke's scent beckoned him even now.

"I just - hic - I just wanted to say that I really appreci-hic...apprec-hic...love you, Hawke."

Hawke grinned and looked at Fenris sideways. He sighed. "This is your doing, Hawke. It is your responsibility. I suggest you don't keep me waiting long. This night has been taxing, to say the least."

She kissed him on the cheek, pulled her pants back on and gently guided Merrill out the door. Fenris just resigned to wonder what exactly he had done to deserve this.


	20. Sweetness

**I've been really enjoying "Bought and Sold" by Tevinter of our Discontent. If you get a chance, you should definitely give it a read. I adore her style and the wit, and her Fenris is so very charming. The story is definitely worth your attention. :)**

**Bethany and Laz "Quivering": 65daysofstatic - Radio Protector**

**Lazarus**

It was Lazarus' turn to watch Anders again. Anders was quiet, rocking gently to himself. Sometimes he randomly shouted something or mumbled incoherently, but for the most part he was completely silent. He got that way sometimes and he wouldn't respond to anything for hours. It disturbed Lazarus to see his friend like this, but he felt he owed it to Anders to be there for him during his crisis.

He could hear the others from outside the door, drinking, laughing. He tried not to let it get to him that he wasn't invited to the party, but then, he was the newest member of the group. It was expected that he was left with the boring jobs. He sighed and settled back in the armchair, thinking of all the things he wasn't allowed to set on fire on the ship.

"Psst." he heard. _Was that Anders?_ He inclined his head toward where he perceived the sound came from and listened. Perhaps he was going mad, himself. "Psssst."

"You can come in, you know." he said.

"Just me, sorry. I didn't want to wake Anders if he was asleep." Bethany smiled, slipping through the threshold. "How's he doing?"

Lazarus gestured toward Anders. "He's been doing that for four hours. He's probably broken some kind of record."

"Poor thing." She frowned and sat down on the edge of one of the cots. "I brought you something." she said, pulling a bottle of brown liquid from her robe.

"You little _imp!_" he laughed. "You stole liquor from a pirate! The more I discover about you, the more intrigued I am."

She grinned. "I thought you could use some company."

"Did you read my mind? That's uncanny! What am I thinking now?"

She laughed. "You're thinking 'the only thing that would make this a better time is a giant bloody bonfire.'"

"Oh Maker! Get out of my head!"

"SPIDERS!" Anders shouted.

"Where?!" Lazarus yelped and jumped up on his seat, but Anders didn't answer, just went back to rocking. "Oh." Lazarus laughed nervously. "Well, you never know."

Bethany chuckled and pulled the cork out of the bottle, taking a good swig and passing it to him. "Eugh." she cringed. "Fair warning, it's a little strong."

He sniffed the bottle and hesitantly drank a little. She was right, it was terrible. "That'll put hair on your chest, Beth. You wanted that, right? A hairy chest?"

"How do you know I don't already have one?"

"And now I'm drinking to forget what you just said."

* * *

It wasn't the first time Lazarus drank, but Isabela's grog hit him harder than he expected. He was unprepared.

"Sorry for falling asleep on you the other night." she said.

"No problem. Feel free to do whatever you want on me." he slapped his hand over his mouth. "Maker, that sounded bad, didn't it?"

"Not to me." she mumbled.

"Hmm, yeah. Wait, what?"

"Nothing." she smiled.

"No, no, that was definitely something."

"You are mistaken, serah. I said nothing."

"Cute." he shook his head, taking a long gulp from the grog. "You're just awful at lying, you know."

"You can't prove it."

"No, I suppose not." he sighed, passing her back the bottle.

"WICKED, EVIL WOMAN!" Anders screamed rather appropriately. Lazarus failed to control a girlish giggle.

"Shh, Anders, it's alright." She patted him on the head. "Do you want some grog?"

"He can't hear you and I don't think that's a good idea anyway. Drunk and crazy is usually a bad combination."

"Perhaps you shouldn't drink, then." she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

"I'm not crazy, I'm just enthusiastic about fire."

"Riiight..." she said.

"Why does everyone say that?"

"It's very dark in here." she said. "You don't seem to be overly enthusiastic about candles."

"Fenris took most of them. Mood lighting, I guess. Maker, I said that aloud, didn't I? Lost all my inner monologue. No wonder Isabela likes this stuff. Maybe I misjudged her. Maybe she's not trying to get under my skin. Maybe she's just been off her arse this whole time. I said that aloud too, didn't I?"

"I can't believe he still hasn't proposed."

"I can. Women are scary."

"Am I scary?"

He drank deep from the bottle. "I know I'm going to regret saying this, but yeah, to put it lightly." he said.

"You're joking! Me?"

"You especially!"

"Why?"

"You make bloody big fireballs and you know it."

"How did you know that?"

"Shhh."

"What?"

"Shhh. I know things."

"But you like fireballs."

"Yeah, what of it?"

"If you like fireballs, why am I scary?"

"What are you on about? Those are completely unrelated."

"Laz, you're completely trashed." she giggled.

"I happen to take offense to that!"

"I'm sorry."

And then he felt terrible, because he'd made her feel like she owed him an apology. "Bethany." he said, cupping her soft cheek. "I'm really, really drunk. I don't remember why you're apologizing, but I'm sure it's not necessary."

"Laz..." she gasped tracing his fingers with hers, her eyes were filled with stars and he could feel himself falling into the space between them. _No! Keep your wits about you, man!_

"Er, sorry about that." he said, stepping back. He rubbed the back of his neck. Drinking was a dangerous game where she was involved, he was beginning to realize. His body seemed all too ready to break faith, and his brain was unreliable. "I've clearly had too much."

"Oh."

"I didn't put you off, did I?"

"No. No of course not." she sighed.

"Well that's a relief." he said. She turned away, and Lazarus began to feel like he'd done something terribly wrong. "Beth?"

"I think I'll go to bed now, Laz." she said softly.

He grabbed her gently by the shoulder. "Wait." he said. She stopped dead in her tracks. "Look, I'm not terribly bright at the best of times, but I get the feeling I've said or done something extra stupid."

"You haven't." she said. "I'm the stupid one."

"You and I both know that's not true. What's on your mind?"

"Don't trouble yourself."

"You know you can tell me anything."

"I just...you made me feel so special."

"You are special! Am I missing something?"

"My whole life I've always been 'that mage girl' or 'Hawke's little sister.' You were the first person who seemed interested in more than just that. I thought for once someone saw me for who I really am."

He scratched his head. "I do see you! I am interested in more than that! I feel so confused right now. Why are you leaving? I'm sorry, but you might have to spell it out for me."

"I've been throwing myself at you for weeks and you haven't made a move. I thought maybe if you drank a little you might loosen up, but maybe I just misinterpreted your signals to begin with." He broke into laughter just then, not just a chuckle, but side-splitting guffaws. "What?" she frowned.

"Andraste's flaming sword, I'm a bloody idiot!" he said between bouts of high-pitched laughter. "Maker save my poor, stupid soul."

"Laz?"

"Give me a moment." he said, catching his breath and nearly falling over from exertion. "Bethany, will you ever forgive me?"

"For what, Laz?"

"For being such a moron. Darling, I'm sure it's fairly obvious that I'm completely _smitten_ by you. I was just terrified I'd lose your friendship if I tried anything. I simply couldn't believe you could ever want someone like me as anything more than a friend."

She blushed. "Well, I do."

"I can't even begin to guess why. I'm dumber than a sack of rocks. Best not to question it, I suppose." he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm going to kiss you now, as long as that's alright with you."

"Laz..."

At last his lips were on hers and his fingers were in her hair and she was pressed against him. It was clumsy and wet and he wasn't even sure he was doing it correctly until she melted into his embrace. She sighed his name into his chest and he decided that he must have done something right.

"I've never done that before." he said, kissing the crown of her head. "I hope it wasn't bad."

"It wasn't bad." she smiled. "Actually, I want to do it again."

"I guess we could do that." he grinned, his fingers curling around her cheeks and pulling her in for another. His hand grabbed a fistful of her robes and he had an urge he couldn't shake to push her against the wall. He'd resisted those urges for far too long. Vials of liquid began crashing down all around them, and that was just fine by him. She was trapped in his arms, and he thought to himself what a pretty sight that was.

"That was certainly worth the wait." she smiled, grazing his chin with a kiss.

He chuckled and his head fell forward to rest on her shoulder as he caught his ragged breath. "You leave me devastated."

"In a good way, I hope?" He nodded with a grunt. "Are you alright?"

"I think I just need to sit down for a bit. My legs feel like they're made of pudding." He said and collapsed into the armchair. "Ah. The room has stopped spinning. That's a good sign, I think."

Bethany regarded him with a teasing smile. "Might I join you?"

He adjusted himself in the chair, patting his leg with one hand and beckoning her with the other. She sat across his lap, laying her hand on his heart with her fingers splayed and her other in his hair. He dragged his thumb tenderly over the swell of her lips then pulled her into another savoring kiss, winding his arms around her waist to press his fingers into the small of her back. She whimpered and clutched at him, tilting her head to deepen the cinnamon flavored kiss, their tongues dancing desperately with each other.

"My, what do we have here?" Isabela's sing-songed from the doorway. "Is that my grog I smell? Oh, you two have been _naughty_."

Bethany practically fell out of his lap. Lazarus crossed his legs, hoping the slack would hide his shame.

"You won't tell my sister, will you?"

Isabela laughed. "And discourage the adorable coupling of two innocents? Of course not." Bethany gave a sigh of relief. "Speaking of Hawke, she asked me to check up on Anders before I hit the sack. How is he?"

"See for yourself." Lazarus gestured towards where Anders was...not. "Er, he was there a minute ago."

"What do you mean 'he was there a minute ago'? Where is he?"

"He can't have gotten far."

"You lost a crazy man on my ship?!" Isabela groaned rubbing her forehead.

"I-I'm sorry, I was...distracted."

"Great. He's probably in the galley dancing with a cabbage. Let's go find him, and if Hawke finds out, you're going to be the ones to tell her what happened."


	21. Man in the Box

**Thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. You guys make it all worth it. :) **

**Anders**

He was tired of being stuck in a box.

The wind battered his chest as he strained on the rope ladder. He was getting old for this. He certainly wasn't weak, but his joints ached and creaked with each rung in his ascent. Yet he pushed himself, because the alternative was the box.

Finally, he pulled himself into the crow's nest. He could see the entirety of the ship with its tiny people and their insignificant lives. He could see the sea stretched out for miles like a great black canvas, beautiful and terrible and unimaginably cold. Miles and miles of nothing. No land, no society, no Maker's guiding hand. Just blackness.

"Anders?" It was Lazarus. He shrunk back against the mast. "Anders, where are you?"

"We've searched every inch of the ship, I don't know where else he could be." Bethany said.

"I do." Isabela said peeking over the starboard rail.

"Oh Maker, you can't mean..."

"Let's look again. I'm sure we just missed him. Anders? Anders?"

Perhaps it was cruel to hide, but Anders was beyond caring. Here he could have some privacy and enjoy the cold salty air caressing his cheeks for just a little while before they found him.

And then Hawke emerged from her cabin, rubbing her eyes. "What's all this racket?"

"Anders is missing." Lazarus sighed. "We only took our eyes off of him for a minute."

"Oh Laz, how could you?" she groaned. "And you have no idea where he is?" Lazarus shook his head. "Where have you looked?"

"Everywhere."

"I'm telling you, he decided to have a swim." Isabela said making a diving gesture.

"That isn't funny, Isabela. You know he's not himself right now."

"Exactly. He probably thought he was a dolphin or something. That's what crazy people do."

Hawke did not hesitate to push Isabela on her ass. "I don't care if this is your ship, learn to have some damn tact. Anders has healed you countless times and he is my friend. Show some respect."

"Well, _sorry_!"

"And you!" she turned to Lazarus. "You had one job, Lazarus! One job! You've been like a tumor on his backside since the day I've met you and the one time I ask you to keep him company you lose him? How exactly did that happen anyway? The man is six feet tall and covered in feathers and jangling chains. Not exactly inconspicuous!" Anders furrowed his brow, more than a little insulted. He was six foot two! And he was not covered in feathers or chains by any stretch of the imagination!

"I...it's complicated." _Maker, if you think that's complicated, wait until you see what's in her smalls._

"Try me."

"It's not Laz's fault." Bethany said, stepping forward.

"Is that liquor I smell on your breath?"

"There was a bit of drinking involved..." she said. "And kissing."

She backed Laz against a wall. "You tried to take advantage of my sister!"

"No!" Bethany said. "It was nothing like that! Laz is a perfect gentleman. I wanted him to kiss me."

She began pacing in front of the two, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I see. And at no point did you think maybe it might be uncomfortable for Anders? Maker, Bethany, what were you thinking? I'm sure he was completely mortified. How long ago was this?"

"Hawke?" Fenris asked, emerging from their cabin. Anders thought he could hear Lazarus gulp from where he was standing. "What's going on?"

"These blighters lost Anders!"

Fenris looked confused for a moment, scratched his head and said "The mage is missing?"

"Yes, that's what I just said." Hawke said.

"Hawke..."

"Not now, Fenris. You won't believe what these two were doing when it happened."

"Hawke..." he yawned.

"I said not now. We need to figure out where he went."

"I just thought you might want to know..."

She sighed, exasperated. "What Fenris? What is it now?"

"Isn't that Anders up in the crow's nest?"

She tilted her head back to glance up at him. The jig was up. He waved down at her with a smile.

"Oh, thank the Maker." she said. "Anders, are you alright?"

He thought about it. "No. I'm crazy, remember?"

"Right, but otherwise?"

"No worse for wear, I suppose."

"Mind coming down from there?"

"Am I in trouble?"

"Of course not." she laughed.

"Are you going to make me sit in that room while those two make-out again?"

She turned and glared at Lazarus and Bethany. The look on Laz's face was one of stark terror. "Sorry about that." she said.

"I guess." he said and began climbing down the ladder again. In truth, he was pretty cold, anyway. A resonant gasp came from the deck when he came into view. "What?"

Isabela smirked. "Nice."

"What?" he asked again. Bethany shielded her eyes and Fenris made a visible effort to resist laughing.

Hawke shook her head in disbelief. "Anders, I know you like me and I appreciate the sentiment, but it's rude to point."

"What are you...? Oh." he said, looking down at his naked body. "Hm. Well, that's never happened before." He cupped himself, more out of politeness than any sort of modesty. "I thought there was a draft."

"Where are your clothes?"

"Good question. I don't remember taking them off."

"Well, let's at least find you something." she said.

"Please do. I am beginning to feel unwell from the sight of him." Fenris said.

"You mean _inferior_. I know. It's an easy mistake to make. My sympathies." Anders retorted.

"Inferior? Hawke might be inclined to disagree."

"She told you that? She was being nice. She's like that."

"You assume a great deal about the contents of my smalls. That disturbs me. Is it something you think about often?"

"Are you two seriously arguing about who has a bigger 'Blade of Mercy?'" Hawke sighed. "And you were getting along so nicely for a while. Would you like me to set the record straight? Or would you rather flop them out on a table and measure them side by side? I can light some sensual candles, set out some oils..."

"Enough, Hawke." Fenris growled.

"Yes, please stop." Anders agreed.

"Oh good. So what's next on the agenda? A literal pissing match?"

"Even I can't get into that, and I'll try almost anything once." Isabela shrugged, passing Anders a handful of linen. He wrapped it around his waist and sighed, changing the subject.

"I'm just tired of being imprisoned for my own good."

"I swear you'll rebel to anything, won't you? Clothing isn't a prison, Anders." Hawke said.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"What would you like me to do? I have to think about the safety of everyone else as well. Right now you're lucid and calm, but who knows how long that will last? What happens if you hurt someone? You attacked me not even a week ago."

He stared at his feet ashamedly. "I'm just saying it would be nice if I could get some fresh air every now and then, at least when I know I'm not a dolphin."

"You heard that, yeah?" Isabela laughed. "In my defense, I have the utmost respect for dolphins. They're majestic beasts."

Hawke glared at Isabela. "Fine. When you're sane you can do what you like, but I still want you supervised."

"Hawke..."

"You aren't exactly predictable these days. I'm sorry, Anders, but that's how it has to be, at least until we figure out what's wrong with you. And no running around naked, if you please."

He regarded the woman he loved with what felt suspiciously like resentment for just a second or two before the logic clicked in his mind and he was forced to agree with her. It could hardly be said that Hawke was being irrational, and blaming her for his condition would never do. "As you wish, love." he said, his shoulders rounded. She nodded at him, her eyes truly conveying her sympathy. She seemed to find no joy in her decision either and for that he was grateful.

"Lazarus, can I trust you to finish your shift without further incident or do I need to put a detail on you as well?"

Lazarus refused to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry. You can count on me."

"I certainly hope so." she said. "Now then, if nothing else needs my immediate undivided attention, can I go back to sleep?" Silence. "Alright then. I'll see you in the morning, Anders." She joined hands with Fenris and retreated back to their cabin.

Lazarus turned back to Bethany, rubbing the back of his neck. "See you tomorrow?"

"I imagine so." she smiled and pecked him on the lips. Lazarus caught her by the hair and pulled her in for something deeper. Anders coughed as a reminder that he was, in fact, still standing right there. "Goodnight, Laz." she said, pulling away.

"Night, Beth." he said in a cloyingly sweet tone he used only around her. He turned to Anders, his eyes far-away and unfocused, his mouth agape. Sadness lanced through Anders at the image, because he could not remember the first time Hawke kissed him. He couldn't remember any of it.

"Come on." Anders urged him, as kindly as he could force himself to. "I'm still naked."

Lazarus blinked and nodded, turning back to sick bay.


	22. Stranger in a Strange Land

**Hawke**

Hawke stared over the port rail, drumming her fingers with boredom. If she never had to sail another day in her life, it would be too soon for her. This time, there were no dolphins, no breaching whales, no glittering sunsets. Well, perhaps there were sunsets, but she was bored of them too. There was nothing to do but drink and play cards and she feared the taste of cinnamon would permanently flavor every dish she ate for the rest of her life.

A muscled arm drew around her, the scent of leather and man strong and present even against the salted mist of the sea, and then another arm followed suit. She leaned against him, binding her fingers with his.

"These are Tevinter waters." he said.

"How can you tell? They all look the same to me."

He pointed out in the distance. "Blue algae." She wondered how he still managed to spark lightning in her chest, every time he spoke, even when talking about mundane things like the color of algae.

She squinted and strained her eyes and if she craned her head just a little to the side she could see something that seemed blueish and almost out of place. "Is that unique?"

"It is." he said. "It's also a delicacy in the Imperium. Danarius often served it at his parties wrapped around fine cheeses." The sound of the magister's name caused her to tense up, involuntarily. She squeezed his fingers in hers, as though that alone could protect him from the painful memories that were forever embedded in his mind and flesh and soul, and felt his cool lips graze her neck in answer. "I am fine." he said.

"I hate the idea of bringing you there."

"I hate the idea of being left behind."

She turned to him and folded her arms across her chest. "Do you think we'll find what we're looking for?"

"Perhaps." but his eyes showed his doubt clearly.

"You don't seem optimistic."

"This is a quest of desperation, Hawke. I do not know what kind of secrets the magisters have at their disposal, but I doubt they will give it to you freely."

"Then I will pay."

"And what if it is not for sale?"

"Then I will steal it from them or their corpses, whichever will yield more efficiently."

The corners of his lips drew up ever so slightly, _with pride_, Hawke surmised. "I may enjoy this trip after all." he gravelled out, and she could not think to do much else than kiss him. It startled him out of his reverie, he blinked down at her, confused. "What was that for?"

"Because you are being so very Fenris right now."

He scrunched his brow. "And that pleases you, Hawke?"

"Yes."

He chuckled, soft and low in his throat. "Hm. Then I suppose I am pleased as well."

"Oh, I'll please you, alright."

* * *

Hawke did not know what she was expecting of Qarinus, but what she found was certainly not it. They almost were not allowed to dock at all, but the port authority allowed it at the last moment for no good reason. Fenris gave her a look of suspicion and she nodded in confirmation. Something was definitely not right here.

A dockworker shoved a paper in Isabela's hand, and she bent to sign it. No doubt, she had signed dozens of contracts like these and never bothered to read a one. She _was_ Isabela, after all. She couldn't be bothered to waste time on boring legalese. They mostly just detailed payment instructions, that they were not carrying contraband, that the port authority was not responsible for any damage caused to the ship in the case of natural disaster and the like. Nothing out of the ordinary. But the look on the dockworker's face gave Hawke pause and she decided that something was certainly out of the ordinary here. "Wait."

Isabela cocked her head to the side. "Change of heart? I hear Seheron is nice this time of year."

"Let me see that." she said. Isabela raised an eyebrow but passed Hawke the paper anyway.

"On this day of _, I, _, do hereby resign control of my ship _ for safekeeping to the Qarinus port authority until _, unless said date is formally changed and approved by a Qarinus port authority processing agent. I swear that aforementioned ship and it's cargo are mine and were acquired and transported lawfully. Services rendered will cost exactly 30 silver per head, per day, no more and no less. Sentient cargo charges vary depending on gender and age, 2 silver for able-bodied males and tranquils, 1 silver for able-bodied females, 50 copper for children, the elderly, and decrepit. Payment will be surrendered on agreed upon departure date with a late fee of 5 sovereigns per day, unless said date is formally changed and approved by a Qarinus port authority agent. The Qarinus port authority reserves the right to hold said ship until payment is received, and the right to sell said ship to recover debt if I do not return with payment in full within three months of agreed upon departure date. I understand that the Qarinus port authority is not responsible for any damage incurred to said ship, it's passengers, or it's cargo - sentient or otherwise - due to natural disaster or acts of the Maker. I agree to abide by Imperial law within the city, and understand that failure to do so may result in retention of ship by the Qarinus port authority in accordance with Act XIV of the Imperial Maritime Penal Code. In such a case ship retention will only be relinquished with written and signed approval from three Tevinter magisters, unrelated to each other and myself. If said crime is a class 3 or higher offense, Qarinus port authority reserves the right to sell said ship to recover debt for services rendered unless a family member or beneficiary claims ship and pays the debt, including any and all late fees on my behalf within three months of sentencing. I understand that any agreement I have with any other Tevinter port authority is made null and void upon the signing of this contract." At the bottom there were two lines for signatures, one for the ship captain and one for a witness, presumably the dockworker.

Hawke sighed and handed Isabela back the contract. "Go ahead." she said. She did not find anything particularly disturbing about the agreement - well, aside from the bit about sentient cargo, of course, and that was neither relevant or unexpected - but she still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Isabela filled out the appropriate fields and handed the dockworker back the paper with her sweeping signature at the bottom. He reviewed the document with an appropriate amount of scrutiny, looking back up to her with a grin "Is your ship really named 'Your Mother'?"

"It is now." Isabela said. "How much extra will it cost to have that painted across the hull?"

The dockworker snickered as he signed his name below Isabela's. "I apologize, friend. We don't er...we can't do that, but you may find someone in town who'd be willing."

Isabela shook her head "Never mind, I'll do it myself. Where can a girl get a good drink around here?"

"That would be the Tattered Dragon. Just take this path and it will be on your right about a quarter of a mile from here. Big blue flag in front, you can't miss it. You should know, you won't be able to get into the residential quarter without papers or a magister's approval. I hope you didn't have business there."

Hawke squinted at him. "Why is that?"

"From what I understand, they are still cleaning up the last remnants of a bloody failed rebellion. Don't worry, the city is safe now, but it was messy. You understand."

"Rebellion? You mean a slave rebellion?"

"Yes, unfortunately. They crop up from time to time. Most of them are squashed before they get out of hand, but things were already hectic here, what with all the Chantry chaos in the rest of the world and the mage refugees fleeing here for safety. I guess the animals saw their opportunity and took full advantage. It was an embarrassment for the Senate, to be sure."

"To be sure." Fenris repeated with an insolent smirk.

"Might I ask what manner of business you have in Qarinus? You don't look like refugees."

Hawke considered lying, but there was really no point. There was nothing illegal or immoral about seeking aid for a mage, at least not in Tevinter. Besides, who would this man tell? "Looks can be deceiving. We are refugees, but it's true we're not seeking refuge here. I am in need of a skilled healer for my friend. Perhaps someone versed in more esoteric magics. You wouldn't happen to know of someone like that, would you?"

The man turned to his colleague, who tried and failed to covertly nod at him. "That would be Socinus. He's hard to find, busy man he is, and it won't be cheap. Nothing's cheap in Tevinter these days. You can thank the Champion of Kirkwall for that."

She suppressed a chuckle. "How would one hire this Socinus fellow?"

"That I don't know, my friend. You might try asking around the Dragon, though. That's where I'd start."

"Thanks for your help." Hawke said, reluctantly.

"Not to worry, we'll take extra good care of Your Mother. She's a beauty." the man snickered. Hawke shuddered in revulsion.

* * *

Hawke couldn't help but notice the distrustful glances she got from the citizens of Qarinus as they passed. She hadn't thought they stuck out that badly, but perhaps she grossly overestimated their ability to blend in with a crowd. Then again, she was towing a drooling mage between her and an elf who was covered in lyrium tattoos. That couldn't be commonplace even in a place as weird as this.

She also noticed the suspicious lack of apostate refugees. Hadn't the dockworker mentioned there were mages fleeing the Circle in the city? If she were a Circle mage, she might have considered fleeing to Tevinter herself. If she didn't already know about their sordid practice of selling people, that is.

"Is it just me or is there something seriously fishy about this place?" Varric asked, as if to confirm her paranoia. "This is Tevinter, right? But where are the golems? Where are the centurions? Furthermore, where are the magisters? I don't like it, Hawke. I don't like it one bit."

"I know what you mean, Varric." she said. "The sooner we conclude this business with Socinus, the better. Is that the Dragon?" she pointed

"Fits the description." Varric shrugged.

Anders' head lolled onto her shoulder and he licked her cheek with a long, flat swipe of his tongue. She scowled and pushed onward, eager to find an answer to her questions, and to rid him of this particularly wet and slimy brand of psychosis.

Varric held the door and they all stepped into the tavern, for lack of a better word. Sure, there were kegs strewn about and there was a bar with a person who was surely intended to be a barkeep. There were barely dressed women who could pass for barmaids if you'd never been to such an establishment before. There was the smell of stew and piss and vomit, and there were also drunk people sitting on stools. All of which gave the illusion of a tavern, but never quite the feeling of one. Hawke handed one of the not-quite-barmaids a couple of coins and indicated the amount of not-quite-rooms she wanted. The girl nodded and rambled off a list of numbers that probably had rooms to correspond with them. It almost felt like a transaction.

Some of her companions found their way up the stairs to their rooms. Fenris begged her with the sincerest of puppy-eyed faces to be allowed to retire. _And to brood_, she assumed, but she couldn't truly blame or deny him. Lazarus and Bethany staggered up the stairs with Anders between them, sneaky glances ghosting over their features. Britta and Varric exchanged harsh words that to the untrained ear sounded like threats, but Hawke knew them well enough to deduce it was an invite to play Diamondback and, once Donnic realized this, he opted to join them. That left her, Aveline, Merrill and Isabela, an unlikely and pretty team if ever she saw one. Apparently, it was ladies' night.

Hawke crossed to the bar and ordered them a round of whatever passed for a drink here in this not-tavern. The barkeep was pleasant enough, if not a bit jittery, but it didn't calm the disquiet in her stomach.

"So." she said. "I'm looking for someone named Socinus, any idea where I might be able to find him?" A couple of heads snapped up to look at her, a fork clanked on a dish, and one person audibly gasped. Hawke registered these reactions without making one herself.

"Socinus? How do you know about him?" the barkeep asked.

"A chatty dockworker told me about him. Was he not supposed to?"

"No, but it's a little surprising." he said, pouring a mug of mead, never maintaining eye contact for more than a second or two. "His apprentice sometimes comes by here. Was sitting right where you are a day or so ago. If I see her, I'll mention that you were looking for him."

"I'd appreciate that."

"I should tell you, though, Socinus doesn't do charity."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good on you." he said passing her four mugs of amber liquid with an overly friendly smile. It was a bit too hoppy for her tastes, but unmistakably mead despite the fact that this was assuredly not a tavern and the man who gave it to her was definitely not a barkeep.

"So?" Aveline raised an eyebrow at her as she sat, dividing the mugs between the four of them.

"So, we wait for his apprentice to show up."

"This place creeps me out. I hope they show up soon."

"Me too." the other three chimed at once. The room turned to look at them and Hawke felt a chill run up her spine.

"Take this upstairs?" she asked. There was a wave of nodding heads in response and they followed her in a single-file line up the stairs. They entered what was probably going to be Isabela's room, given the nautical decor, but then again she had not yet seen her and Fenris' room, so it could be standard fare. Maker, she hoped it wasn't. She was still getting used to the floor not rocking under her feet, and even if it was the only good thing about this place she did intend to fully appreciate it while it lasted. Sleeping next to a rusty anchor would only serve to remind her that she would have to sail again after they were through with this place.

There was a length of discomfort even when they were out of earshot of the bar, the uncertainty and the danger of this place befouling the very spirit of the night. Isabela had no double entendre to tear apart the veil of caution. Merrill was quieted by her own uneasiness. Even Aveline was afraid to speak, brave as she was. Hawke was the first to say anything, and that was only when she was sure no one else would.

"What do you think is really happening in the residential quarter?"

A universal sigh of relief sounded from the rest of the group. It had been the question on everyone's mind.

"Nothing good." Aveline said, perhaps a pitch or two lower than her normal voice. "I have a very bad feeling, Hawke."

Isabela dealt a hand of Wicked Grace and the game proceeded quieter than she could ever remember their group being during a game of cards. Aveline did not even protest when it became clear Isabela was cheating, or when Hawke also began to cheat to give her an edge against Isabela.

Then a rap sounded at the door and Bethany peeped in. "Sis, Anders is...he's calling for you again."

Actually, Hawke was relieved to finally be able to get away for a moment. She'd been thinking of exit strategies for the past hour. She nodded at Bethany, tossing her hand into the center and following her into Anders' room.

He was thrashing about madly. Well, more madly than usual. His forehead was beaded with sweat and his face was bright red. "Hawke! Hawke! I need Hawke!"

"I'm here, Anders." she said, pushing the door open.

"Hawke! Get me Hawke!"

"I'm here." she said again, tiptoeing to his side. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know. He won't tell us. He's been calling you like that for an hour now. He seems like he's in a trance. I thought we should just let him tire himself out, but maybe you can help."

"Anders?"

"Hawke! Hawke! Bring her here!" he called.

She took another step toward his bedside and another, until she was standing over him. "What is it?"

He jolted upright and grasped the hem of her tunic, his eyes frenzied and faraway, his fists full of her shirt, trembling. "Every woman, every suckling babe, every flower, every beast, every pair of lovers in one another's arms, every warrior, every beggar, mage and templar alike, every darkspawn and every virgin, the innocent and the wicked, the young and the old, brothers, sisters, daughters, sons, kings, priests, shepherds, paupers, heroes, thieves, the qunari, elves, dwarves, humans, even you and even I...they will all feel the fabric of life shredding at the weft. There and in the expanse of a second, gone forever. The weeping children know. The end is nigh. It will destroy everything. It must be absorbed."

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. That last part sounded vaguely familiar. Tears began streaming down his face and his grip became tighter. "You're not making any sense, Anders."

"Can you feel it, Hawke? I can. I can hear it singing its terrible, beautiful song. It stirs the Fade within me, expanding, expanding, shrinking, shrinking, but always distorted. Its pull is strong, too strong. Too much power. No man should have such power."

"What are you talking about? What power?"

"It must be absorbed. It must be absorbed before it is too late, before the Maker turns his wrathful gaze upon us all. Last time he took paradise, but spared us our lives. This time he will not be so merciful. The weeping children know the way. East, tower, red, door. East, tower, red, door. East, tower, red, door." And with that he quieted and sank into his pillow, fast asleep.

Hawke turned to Lazarus and Bethany who shrugged in unison. She tucked Anders in beneath the sheets and left them alone, but she couldn't shake the uneasiness.


	23. Weeping Children

**I rarely do acknowledgments, maybe I should do it more often since there are so many people I want to thank. For right now, I want to thank Eliethe and Catseyeflashlight. Both of you have been around since I first started writing B&B. Your dedication to my story is humbling. Sometimes writing this has been a struggle, but your loyalty has made it so worth it. :) **

**Fenris**

_Pain._ Just being near her had soothed so much of the constant ache that he had lived with for so many years as his body slowly and aggressively rejected the lyrium embedded in his flesh. Now it was back with a vengeance, ever since they stepped off the ship.

He pulled one of his gauntlets off. He felt the need to wear his armor here, to remain ever prepared. If a magister somehow came to know what he was, what he could do...he shuddered at the thought. He stretched his fingers, looking down at the cruel souvenirs of his former life. Pink tinged the edges of his markings and in some places, dark, angry purple. They were hot to the touch and even the gentle caress of a light breeze felt like an attack on his accursed person. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen them so inflamed. He folded in on himself and tried to focus on anything but the pain.

He didn't even notice Hawke come in until the weight on the bed shifted and she tried to put her arms around him. He sucked a hissing breath in through his teeth as she grazed a sensitive brand on his bicep, willing himself not to cry out.

"Everything alright?" she asked, caressing his forearm. His skin felt as though it would rip itself off his bones. He wanted to scream. She could not possibly know this. She could not possibly understand.

"I'm fine, Hawke." he said, snatching his arm away from her touch.

"You went to bed awfully early."

"I wanted to be alone." Hopefully she would gather his meaning and leave him to suffer in solitude. He didn't want to burden her with this. She had enough on her plate with Anders and the hellish city itself.

"Are you ill? Should I see if Anders is conscious enough to examine you? Or Bethany, perhaps?"

"No!" he snapped. Then more quietly "No, thank you."

"Can I get you anything?"

"Some quiet."

"Ah." she said softly, sounding a little hurt. "Alright. I'll leave you be."

"Thank you."

Then she bent over him to press a kiss into his forehead, all her weight pushing down on his arm and his shoulders and he could not hold back the shout that erupted from his lips. His vision went white and he thought he might pass out or vomit. Instead he just lay there, quivering, unable to move or speak or do anything except scream from the agony until she jumped away from him.

"Fenris!" she choked. "Fenris are you alright?"

"Leave me, Hawke. You do not want to be near me right now." he said through a clenched jaw.

"I..."

"Leave!" he growled.

Her breath caught, but a moment later the door slammed behind her and it was dark again. For the first time in years a tear fell down his cheek. With great difficulty or perhaps a miracle, Fenris found sleep.

* * *

He awoke alone the next morning. Perhaps that shouldn't have surprised him with the way he spoke to her. His body still ached, but not with such intensity. He would have to try to make it up to her.

He sat up, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. He had intended to wake her with an apology, with sweet kisses and gentle promises of reform. He hadn't meant to be cruel to her, but the pain got the better of him, stirring a beast within him that he once thought slain by her hand. She would forgive him, especially if she knew why he acted like such a monster. That did not mean he wouldn't agonize over it. She deserved so much better than the way he treated her.

Slowly he made his way down the hall to Anders' room. The door was slightly ajar, so he peeked in only to find Bethany and Lazarus curled around each other and Anders still asleep. He pushed the door open and rapped gently for courtesy's sake.

"Good morning." Bethany regarded him cheerfully. Her voice cut through him like a blade this early. He was not ready to be in a good mood, not without Hawke. "You don't look so good, Fenris. Are you sleeping well?"

"I'm fine." he said. "Where's Hawke?"

"She left with Varric, Merrill and Britta last night. Said she needed to get away from this place."

_Or to get away from me. Who can blame her?_ "Did she mention where she was going?"

"She said she wanted to find out what's going on in the residential quarter. You know my sister, always looking for trouble."

"Hm." he said. "How long ago was this?"

"That was quite some time ago, actually. Is it morning already? Wow, I'd venture to say the better part of last night, then. Should we...should we go look for her?"

"No. We had a...a disagreement before she left. She will return soon enough, perhaps when she feels I am properly repentant of my attitude." he sighed.

"Alright." Bethany said. "I'll come find you if I see her."

"I'd appreciate that." he said.

He made his way down to the bar, hoping they would have something, anything in the way of wine. With any luck, this was the kind of pain that would ease with drink, and Hawke would return to find him tipsy and affectionate and apologetic. Well, he was sorry either way, but he would be more capable of telling her so if he had something to drink first.

Fenris finally began to feel his buzz, and even managed to ignore the taste of the unfortunate liquid the barkeep tried to pass off as wine. He was not doing it for the flavor, he reminded himself. One of the wenches brought up a complimentary bowl of stew and a heel of dark bread and that did not look appetizing either, but he resigned himself to eat it nonetheless, because Hawke would harass him about it if he didn't.

He had just finished the bread when he heard his name being called from the stairs. He rose to see what the fuss was and Varric met him in his doorway, panting. "We've got a problem, elf."

"Ah, Varric. You're back. Good. Where is Hawke? I must speak with her."

"That's the problem. They took her and Daisy and Dusty." he clutched at his chest, trying to gather his breath. "I was the only one who got away."

"Who, Varric? Who took Hawke?"

"Centurions. A buttload of them. We didn't stand a chance."

Fenris tried to make sense of what Varric was saying, but his head was spinning from the wine and the thoughts didn't quite connect in his brain. "Start from the beginning."

Varric sighed. "Hawke wanted to explore whatever was going on in the residential quarter. While we were looking, we came across a kid crying in the streets, but when we tried to get close he took off. It was a trap. We followed him to a dead end and they ambushed us. Those bastards trailed me for miles before I could lose them."

"Where was this?"

"In the trade quarter. I went back there hoping I could find out where they took her, but there are no centurions anywhere. No kids either. They left without a trace."

Fenris closed his eyes tightly. "Get Aveline and Isabela and then take me there. Do not mention this to anyone else." He did not fully allow himself to panic, or perhaps the shock didn't truly set in yet. He would find her. He had to.

* * *

The sun was shining and the birds atwitter with lively song, as though his whole world was not crashing down around him. As though nothing could possibly be wrong. It would not have made him feel any better if the sky was dark with rain, but he somehow felt it would be more appropriate.

Aveline and Isabela were briefed on the situation on the way. He considered himself lucky that they were not with her when it happened. He trusted them to work diligently to help him find her, which was more than he could say for most. He did not want to think what this would be like with Merrill or Britta.

They came across an alley and Varric stopped abruptly at the end of it. "This is where it happened." he said.

Fenris examined the area for any sign of struggle, a torn piece of fabric, a drop of blood, anything, but he could find nothing. "Are you certain?"

"Sure as shit." Varric answered. "There must have been thirty or more centurions right here, not five hours ago."

"You would think there would be something here." Aveline said.

Fenris combed his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his face and pacing in a tight circle. Everything was beginning to feel real._ "Kavesh! Futuis Qarinus! Futuis est Imperium! Futuis omnia!"_ He put his fist through an abandoned and empty cart, throwing a crate against a wall and watching the rotted wood splinter and fall to the ground. _"Pedicabo unum SINGULA!"_ Unsatisfied, he threw another and another until the end of the alley was littered with timber.

He grunted and gasped for air, his markings flared and more pain surged through him. It was his fault she left. If he'd only explained himself, she would have understood. She always understood. Better yet, if he didn't lash out at her at all she might still be in bed beside him. She would be trying to wake him up now, calling his name softly, a flurry of kisses on his cheeks and neck and lips, and if he deserved her at all he would have accepted them without complaint. He would have returned them tenfold.

He tore across the alley and kicked the remains of the crates, watching them shatter like glass against the wall.

"This is getting us nowhere." Aveline said. Fenris turned on a dime to glare at her. She held her hands up in defense, as though she thought he were about to take a swing at her. "We should ask the locals." He clenched his fist and sighed, nodding uselessly. "We'll find her, Fenris. Don't worry." He wanted to believe that.

The market was ominously quiet, and the locals stared and veered around them, none of them looked eager to talk.

"Excuse me, serah." Aveline called.

"Bugger off!" the woman snapped.

"If I could just have a moment..."

"I said bugger off!" and she quickly shuffled away, refusing to meet their gaze.

"Well, hello there, handsome." Isabela batted her eyelashes at a passing patron.

"I'm not interested." the man answered and ran.

Fenris was growing tired of the useless dalliance. He would get his answers, one way or another. He cornered an elven woman with a basket of fruit at her hip. She stared up at him, terrified. "Where are the centurions?"

"Get away from me!"

"Tell me and I will let you be."

"I-I don't know! I swear! Please, I don't want to be taken like the others!"

His eyes narrowed. He took her by the arm. "What do you mean?"

"Let go of me! They'll take you too if you ask too many questions!" He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her bicep. "Let go! You're hurting me!"

"She doesn't know anything, Fenris." Aveline said. "Let her go." He threw her arm away from him as though it disgusted him. She ran, dropping apples from her basket on the way.

He slumped against a wall, sinking to the floor and burying his face in his hands. He had never felt so alone before. It had only been a few hours since he'd last seen her, but it felt as though he hadn't touched her in years.

His markings burned under his armor and even the open air. It was hot, sharp, unrelenting pain, but he missed her so terribly that nothing would have stopped him from throwing his weight against her and kissing her if she stood before him right then.

_Stay alive, Hawke. I will find you. I swear it._


	24. Girl Party

**Hawke**

"I think she's waking up. Hey Hawke, how goes?" She couldn't see the owner of the voice, but she knew it somehow. "Remember me?"

She rubbed the back of her head, still throbbing from the blow. Her vision was blurred, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from a concussion, not that there was much to see anyway. The room was dark but for a small unimposing fire in the center. "Tallis?" she grumbled.

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!"

Her head pulsed from the sudden noise. She'd taken a vicious blow from the pommel of one of her assailant's swords and only now that she sat up did she feel the full effect. She was happy to see Tallis again, despite the unusual circumstances, assuming the circumstances were what she thought they were and they were stuck in a dark cell. "Where am I?"

"Damn. We were hoping you knew." she said.

"We?"

"Hello again, Champion." a decidedly Orlesian voice said.

"Leliana?"

"I'm surprised you remember me. I must have left a strong impression." she laughed.

"I'm here too, but I don't think we've met." another voice said, but this one didn't sound familiar. An elven woman stepped into the light. "Kallian Tabris." she extended her hand in front of Hawke.

"_The_ Kallian Tabris? As in the Hero of bloody Ferelden?"

"That's what they call me." she said. "Pleasure to meet you, Champion."

"The pleasure is all mine!" Hawke gasped, starstruck. "I'm Fereldan, myself. You've been my hero for years now. I must say, I'm a little taken aback."

"Don't be, you would have done the same if you were me." she said. "Besides, you've got your fair share of admirers yourself, Champion."

"Yeah, but my middle name isn't 'Motherfuckin'. As in Kallian Motherfuckin' Tabris, Hero of Fereldan, bedder of princes, slayer of Archdemons, Grey Warden extraordinaire."

"I only slayed one archdemon and bedded one prince." she said. "Please, let's just change the subject."

"Well, isn't this the merry band of femme fatales?" Hawke chuckled.

"Yes and stuck in a dark cell, no less." Leliana said. "I doubt people would be so impressed with us if they knew how easy we were to capture."

It dawned on her that she hadn't heard anything about Merrill and Britta yet. "Have you heard from my companions? There was a dalish girl and casteless dwarf woman."

"If they were with you, they were probably taken to the camp." Kallian said solemnly. "I'm sorry. My friends are there too."

"Camp?"

The others exchanged a worried glance over the orange light. "It appears to be some kind of internment camp, from what I saw. It was...horrible. Corpses piling up on the ground, people starving to death and sleeping on top of each other at night, working themselves to exhaustion during the day. They took Velanna elsewhere. I think they're doing something with the mages." her voice caught. "When they found out who I was, they dragged me away. Nathaniel and Alistair put up such a fight. Alistair, my stupid, wonderful Alistair...I don't even know if he's still alive."

Hawke paused a moment to let it all sink in. She didn't want to imagine what Kallian was going through. It was bad enough for her that they had taken poor Merrill and Britta. The thought of them hurting Fenris...she clenched her fists. Suddenly their little tiff did not seem so important anymore. "I met Alistair a few years back during the Qunari invasion of Kirkwall. He's no weakling. He can take care of himself."

"He should have just let them take me." she responded flatly. "Stubborn man with his chivalry and idiotic sense of honor. Why doesn't he ever listen? I'm going to kick his ass if I ever get out of this rotten hole. Nathaniel, too."

"We'll get out. Fenris will stop at nothing to get to me." She hoped Varric made it back to the tavern without issue. Creating the distraction that allowed him to flee the scene had been difficult and painful, but if they succeeded, Fenris would already be looking for her now.

There was a long silence that spanned several minutes. "So, I know why I'm here, but why are you all here? Qarinus doesn't really seem like an optimal vacation spot. Especially if this is how they treat tourists."

"I came to fulfill a demand of the Qun. There was a rumor that the Imperium developed a powerful weapon they intended to use against the Qunari. I was sent to find the origins of these rumors and whether or not there was any truth to it. I ended up here." Tallis said.

"How strange." Leliana said. "I was sent to uncover a similar rumor, except the weapon was to be used against the Chantry."

"The Grey Wardens sent me here to look for a tool that could be used to end the Blights once and for all." Kallian said.

They turned toward Hawke, she shuffled a little and said. "I came here to help a friend who is very ill."

"It seems the Maker has guided us all to this place for one reason or another." Leliana said.

"Or the same reason." Hawke said.

"What do you mean?" Kallian asked.

"What if the answer is 'all of the above'?"

"What if, indeed." a raspy voice echoed from a dark corner. There was a clicking of heels on stone and it grew louder until a face could be clearly seen.

"Flemeth." Hawke said.

"How long has she been there?" Tallis asked.

"Perhaps I have always been here. Perhaps I am not really here at all! What does it matter? My presence alone should tell you how dire your situation really is."

"I killed you! You were dead! I saw you die!" Kallian exclaimed. "How are you here?"

"You cannot kill an idea, my dear. Not truly. Not permanently. Surely Morrigan told you this."

"What are the Tevinters planning? What is this weapon?" Leliana asked.

Flemeth took a few long strides away from the fire and stopped. "See for yourself." She created a magical window with the flick of a hand. The cell became blindingly bright with sunlight. Hawke blinked as her eyes adjusted. She rose to her feet and approached to see what was happening outside.

She'd never seen anything like it. There were dozens, hundreds of emaciated mages standing in a circle around an alien device, funneling magic into a channel around a giant glass dome. The channels appeared to have several drains that fed into a brass vessel at the bottom of the dome. The alchemical byproduct rose from the vessel in the form of a great swirling vortex of dark energy, red and pulsating. A chill ran up her spine as she was immediately reminded of the Primeval Thaig and the lyrium idol.

"What is that?" Leliana asked.

"It will destroy everything. It must be absorbed." she said quietly.

"Exactly right, clever child."

"But why? Why would the Tevinters want a weapon that will kill them along with everyone else?" Hawke asked.

"The wicked are rarely deterred by reason when the opportunity for domination presents itself. They cannot truly fathom the power they hold in their hands."

"Then we have to stop them." the Warden said. Hawke agreed completely.

"It would seem so." Flemeth said.

"So, Flemeth. Why are you here? Are you going to rescue us?" Hawke asked. "If so, I hate to inform you that you don't have nearly enough talons to carry us all out. Me first."

Flemeth cackled loudly at that. "I knew I liked you. To answer your question, yes, in a sense."

"_In a sense?_ You're a bloody dragon! Can't you just singe these bastards and be on your way?"

"If only it were so simple. Nothing is ever simple. I will, however, deliver a message for you."

"And what do you get out of it?"

"The world not ending is always a good start."


	25. Grr! Argh!

**Alright, I realize this chapter is short, but it is important. There is a method to Anders' madness. Sort of. Plus, I know PaulaH likes to see him suffer. :-P Added some black humor at his expense, if you like that sort of thing. Things are about to get very hairy for our little group. **

**"In Need of a Healer" song: Denali - Normal Days**

**Anders**

He woke screaming every day now, knowing and not knowing why. He could feel it. _The It_, whatever that was. It felt like something shattering, like a dozen shards of glass inside him, rending him open. The Fade would distort within him, growing and shrinking and threatening to crack through his ribs and his skull, like a breaking dam or a volcanic eruption. The It drawing at his spirit like a magnet to suck his blood through his veins and his pores.

Single words would come to him: _East, tower, red, door._ There was no context anymore. The world made no sense, as though it was being shown to him out of order, backwards or scrambled or in code. There were faces, shapes, sounds but they were wrong and it confused him.

Justice was becoming cagey, paranoid, erratic. The words meant something to him, but he couldn't decide what. He would furiously work to decipher the code, each possible outcome more damning than before. It was as though Anders did not know him, as though there was a fence there where there hadn't been before, a stranger lived in his body and in his mind. The clash created excruciating feedback. The headaches, the hallucinations, the episodes. The It was only salt in the wound.

Moments of clarity were few and far between and they never lasted long, like a break in the clouds. The space between sleep and wakefulness were filled to bursting with it and then it would recede from him and leave chaos in its place.

And _she_ was missing. He could sense that too. Not gone, not dead, but far away and out of place.

_East, tower, red, door._

He did not miss her in a literal sense. His rattled brain did not know her, could not recognize her face or her voice if she stood before him. But he felt something like withdrawal, chemical or spiritual or both. He felt like his world had been drained of all color, like half of his soul was gone. He knew that something was missing and that the word for it was "Hawke." He cried for Hawke, screamed for Hawke, but Hawke never came. His spirit ached for his Hawke like a body aches for food or sleep or sexual release, but no relief would come.

The curtains fluttered open, letting in a breeze laced with traces of The It, and Anders screamed as it touched his skin. It left it's scent upon him, acrid and bitter like death.

The others, the mage pair, the chatty dwarf, the whore pirate, were little more than living furniture in their corner, always watching. The same meal of stew and hard bread would set into his lap and they would watch him as though they were unconvinced he could still feed himself, as though if they looked away for just a second he would try to wear the stew or bathe in it. Sometimes he did, just for the reaction. Perhaps that wasn't really helping.

That day it was the mage pair. At first, he thought they were one entity, unfortunately conjoined by the mouth and hands like some twisted freak of nature, doomed to breathe each other's recycled air forever. The strange noises they made sounded like something between pain and pleasure as they groaned into one another's mouths. He wondered if hyperventilation would cause their heads to swell up like a bladder full of air. He wondered if one would have to physically amputate the other if they died. He wondered how they managed to use the privy. He was relieved to find that the hands and the lips were capable, if not reluctant of detaching from each other, and that they were in fact, two people. And then he was disturbed and annoyed that this was some kind of impotent mating ritual that never resulted in climax, and that they constantly imposed that image on him just because he was incapable of expressing disapproval.

"Beth?" That's what the male one called the female. She clucked out a soft whimper. "Are you all...oh no. Hey, no...no, please don't cry, darling..."

Anders tried to let out a sound of derision, but it came out as a warble, like some piteous animal that lived in the mud and ate scum. He tried to say "Just rut already!" but it came out as "Ghhhrrrhnnnggggnnnnrraaah!" They ignored him completely.

The female mage often cried. It was only slightly less obnoxious than their feeble embraces.

"What if we don't find her?" she sobbed.

Anders tried to say "Whoever it is, she's probably not hiding down that boy's throat." but it came out as "GRUHHH? GRUHHHARRRR! GRAAHHHHHNNNN. GRR! ARGH!" That earned him a tired look from the boy, but he quickly went back to coddling the girl like a wounded animal.

"Fenris will never stop looking for her. He'll find her." Anders sensed he knew what a Fenris was, and that he didn't much like it. "Please don't cry. Because if you cry, I'll cry, and that's just embarrassing for everyone involved." That was true. The boy did sometimes cry when she did, and they would fall together in a writhing, wailing pool of sadness and Anders was always very, very embarrassed for them.

She sniffled and buried her face in the boy's chest. "You are all I have now." she said. "I'm so frightened I'll lose you, too."

"I'm not going anywhere. Hey, look at me, Bethany." she peeked up at him through her eyelashes. "I said I'm staying right here, where the kisses are. I mean you! Where you are! There's that smile. I missed it so." She laughed despite herself and they resumed trying to swallow one another.

Anders tried to gag, but...actually that one worked. The girl turned to him to furrow her brows in confusion, or perhaps accusation. He felt rather accomplished and rewarded himself by going to sleep, his brain reverberating the meaningless code until he immersed himself in the Fade's embrace: _east, tower, red, door._


	26. Frustration

**Lazarus**

_Hawke has the absolute worst timing._ He thought and then instantly felt ashamed of himself. It was unfair of him to blame her for his sexual frustration, even if she was indirectly responsible for it. Still, he hoped Fenris would find her soon before his testicles decided to divorce his body or something similar.

Bethany was sleeping beside him, curled up snugly into his chest. She started having nightmares since Hawke was kidnapped and as such, she took to sleeping in his room. It was both a blessing and a curse, since he no longer had any "alone time" to deal with the consequences of being so near her in the first place.

In other words, he really, really needed a good wank. Desperately.

The worst part about it was that when Bethany was asleep, she made adorable noises. Whimpering, purring, cooing, grumbling...it was a slow and brilliantly effective torture for Lazarus. And then she would grind her hips up against him and his unfortunate growth, and there was nothing he could do but try to divert his attention to something inconsequential, like porridge. No wait, that reminded him of her as well. He made a beaten, abused noise and begged for sleep to steal him away, anything to distract him from the aching between his legs.

It wasn't as though she didn't know that he wanted her. It was fairly difficult to hide when she was straddling his lap with her tongue down his throat. And she wanted him too, at least she said she did. She brought it up at one point, perhaps the second or third day after Hawke went missing. She suggested that they "fix" each other, if only for sanity's sake, blushing furiously in that sweet way she often did. As tempting an offer as it was, he didn't know if he could live with himself if he took advantage of her in this emotional state. She agreed that she'd rather wait for happier times.

So they were in a stalemate. A painful, exasperating, wonderful stalemate. And as much as he grieved the physical side effects of sleeping beside her but not with her, he would not give it up for anything. He didn't want to slow things down or take a break. He wanted to be with her in every way he could until she was ready for more, and then he wanted to be with her in every possible way, period. To touch her, to taste her, to fill her...he was getting distracted again.

When Fenris found out about their new sleeping arrangements, he did not seem pleased, but said nothing. The elf was utterly exhausted from his search, following every breadcrumb he could find that might lead him to Hawke and was no closer than when he began. Lazarus heard him up at all hours of the night, pacing about his room, throwing things at the walls, cursing in Arcanum or mumbling half-cocked theories on her whereabouts. The walls were that thin. Lazarus sympathized. He hadn't been "with" Bethany - if one could really call it that - for that long, but he couldn't imagine what it would be like to have her stolen away from him in the middle of the night. Fenris and Hawke were madly, insanely in love with one another. The kind of love the bards wrote stories about. The kind of love he hoped to one day share with Bethany. The kind of love he suspected was already taking root deep inside his fledgling heart and overwhelming him. Fenris was understandably frightened and frantic.

Bethany, was nearly as bad. The crying was one thing. It was understandable. But sometimes he wondered if her intimacy was born out of fear rather than actual affection, if she clung to him because he made her feel safe, if she kissed him to distract herself from the fear. That made him wonder if he wasn't already taking advantage.

All these doubts troubled him. On the one hand, he cared for Bethany so much he sometimes couldn't even make sense of his feelings. He wanted to be her rock, to give her that comfort and security in any way he could because it hurt him to see her hurting. On the other, he was terrified that she would suddenly leave or become distant once Hawke was found, that all these feelings would amount to nothing in the end. He was scared of allowing himself to be vulnerable around her while she was emotionally compromised, scared of growing attached.

She stirred in her sleep, rocking her hips into him and sighing softly, which directed his attention back to the physical. He sighed. _At least she isn't having a nightmare._

* * *

He was having a very pleasant dream. Bethany was smiling and happy and down to her smalls with her lips in a nice place. She was doing something that he was certain was some kind of old magic, forgotten by all except the Maker's chosen and only practiced in the dark of night, beneath the sheets and if he was any judge, she was very, very good at it, not that he had much to compare her to.

"Beth, where did you learn that?" he groaned, gently pushing himself deeper into her warm, soft lips. She swept her tongue across the bulb at the end of him and he shuddered and gasped. "Oh! What was that? What did you just do?"

She giggled. "It just seemed like the thing to do."

"Doitagain." he said breathlessly. "By the Maker, don't you dare stop doing it." She laughed and complied, lapping at him with long, flourishing mops of her red, wet tongue, while her hands worked at pumping him. This elicited another groan from him, long and low. "This is the best dream I've ever had."

"This isn't a dream, Laz." she said.

His eyes snapped open and he jolted forward. Bethany waved at him and grinned proudly, one hand still wrapped firmly around his cock, tugging him gently.

He palmed his face immediately. "Oh no. Nononono. Bethany...no, this is a terrifically bad idea." He unwrapped her hand from around him and clasped her fingers with his.

She sat up with a sad expression. "I'm sorry! I thought you would like it."

He set his robes aright, but any hopes he had of regaining some semblance of modesty were crushed at the sight of the tent in his lap. He sighed exasperatedly at his cock and then at the woman in front of him, but he couldn't look at her without imagining her lips wrapped around him. Heat rose in his cheeks and he looked away.

He shook his head mentally pleading with his member to surrender even a little blood back to his brain. Bethany took a peek at it and giggled which only frustrated him more. She was determined to make things difficult...no, she was determined to make things hard, and she was doing a marvelous job at it.

"Of course I liked it! That's not the bloody point!"

Her lips trembled and she looked like she might truly cry. Lazarus did not know if he could handle that at the moment. It was taking all his energy to say no, but he could deny a crying Bethany nothing, and he knew it. "Don't you want me?"

His heart shattered into a million fragments at the sound of those words. _Great job, Laz. Now you've hurt her feelings. She thinks you don't want her._ He grabbed her up in his arms, mentally cursing his harsh tone and especially his erection. _Oh Maker, will you come off it, already?_ He chided, running his fingers through her hair, and then he caught a whiff of her soap scented skin and he gave up all hope. He fought from groaning, yet again. His eyes kept skating down her neck to her pert, bared breasts and torso, to her succulent thighs and the area between that could almost be made out through the thin, white scrap of..._NO! She deserves better than leering! And go away, you...you...penis, you! You are not wanted here!_

"Trust me, I want you, Beth. I really, really, really do, in case you can't tell. You're not making it easy for me to do the right thing, you know. I feel like I might explode."

"Then why not just let me take care of you?"

His cock jumped excitedly at the proposition. Laz was almost forced to agree with him. What he wouldn't give to have her lips around him again...what he wouldn't do to lay her down on the bed and slip inside her slick..._stop this madness! This is Bethany! Show some respect! No, not you penis, you can stop standing at attention now. Ugh._

"We've talked about this, darling. You're hurting right now. I don't want you to regret me, to regret us."

"I won't, Laz! How could I?"

"It's going to be the first time for both of us. Your first time should be special, with flower petals and candles and such, not bedhead and morningwood and you worrying about where your sister is the whole time."

"All I want is you!"

"I know you think this is what you want, but it's better if we don't just yet." She creased her brow and Lazarus knew he'd said the wrong thing again. "I...what I meant was..."

"Did you ever actually think about what I want? Or did you just assume that I'm too emotionally weak to decide for myself?"

"What?! Beth, no, that's not what I..."

"Oh, nevermind me! I'm just a sensitive, silly little woman, you can disregard everything I say because I don't really know what I want!"

"Please don't be mad. It just came out wrong."

"So enlighten me! What did you mean?"

He sighed, scrambling his brain for any kind of viable explanation for his gaffe. "I just wanted to do right by you, to do what's best for your heart."

She threw her hands in the air and stood up, pacing the room like a dangerous animal in a cage. "Just what I need, another parental figure to protect me from myself!" she spat. "I'm done talking." She grabbed her robes from off the ground and donned them, and he tried desperately not to mourn the loss of her exquisite breasts.

"Bethany, please don't go. I care for you." he said, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. The thought of losing her made his heart seize up in his chest. She gave him one last disgusted look and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

He flopped back onto his pillow and stared at the ceiling, not knowing what else to do. A second or two later he heard the door to the room beside his slam shut as well and she let out an angry scream. He curled up into fetal position and wondered if she would ever forgive him and how he could have made such a mess of things in the first place.


	27. Witches

**Fenris**

The streets were quiet but for the chirping of crickets and frogs and the hushed fall of his feet against the dirt road. The average person probably couldn't hear him at all, his years on the run instilled the useful talent of stealth in him. It was why he preferred leather armor to chain and plate. Speed, stealth and sure-footing picking up the slack for protection. He figured that if his enemies could land a cruel hit on him, they deserved their victory. That attitude did not come from pride, but experience. Many so far tried and all failed.

He sensed no other presence, aside from Isabela and Varric. Aveline protested at the idea of being left behind, but it was already dangerous enough without her clanking about in her plate, and Donnic refused to allow her to go without it. It couldn't be helped. Bethany offered to go in her stead, arguing that she spent time hiding from templars and knew a thing or two about subtlety, but Hawke would never forgive him if something happened to her sister so he told her to stay.

Five nights now, he stalked the streets looking for these children, these traps of the magisters. Yes, there was no doubt in his mind that they were somehow involved. Five nights he returned to the tavern no closer to finding her than before.

With each passing day without her his pain grew. He never truly realized how much of his tolerance was due to his happiness with her, Hawke's love a salve for his damnable flesh. Now that she was gone, everything was agony. The lack of wind on this night was all that was keeping his jaw from being set in a constant, heavy clench. If it got any worse, he would have to ask Bethany for help, and while he trusted her enough to do the job right, she would probably fuss over him. She was still a mage and he was still a man, so that was the last thing he wanted.

Then a figure carrying a torch turned a corner at the end of the road and they all had to press themselves flat against the wall to keep from being seen. The person drew nearer, the body and stride giving the impression of a woman. She came within a meter of them and passed slowly. Just when Fenris thought they were in the clear, her head turned.

"It was not easy to find you. Lucky for you, I keep my word."

Fenris drew his blade. "Do not come any closer. Consider yourself warned." She laughed menacingly, turning to look him in the eye. It was dark and the torch cast eerie shadows on her face, but Fenris could make out some of the features.

"I know you."

She laughed again. "A strange choice of words. Does anyone truly know anyone? Least of all me."

Fenris made no attempt to lower his sword, looking the witch straight in the face. Her eyes reflected in the dark like a night beast, like a panther hiding in the brush. "Where is Hawke? Is she...?"

"Alive. For now." he breathed a sigh of relief. "Whether she remains that way or not is highly dependant upon you. She is in great danger."

"Point me in the right direction."

"That would not be wise. You came here for a reason. I was told to tell you that you are to continue on that path. Your mage friend knows the way."

"Do not toy with me witch! Point me in the right direction or die. It is your choice."

She chuckled and stepped slowly toward his blade, resting her palm on the point in provocation. Fenris refused to flinch. "Ha! Such pride! What is it they say pride usually precedes? I can't remember." she shrugged.

"You expect me to believe that you are delivering a message from Hawke, and that this message is 'help Anders first?'"

"I do not truly care what you believe. I have kept my promise and upheld my end of the bargain."

"And what bargain is this?"

"I deliver this message, your woman saves the world."

Then she vanished, right before his very eyes.

* * *

He fumed the whole way back to the tavern. How could Hawke ask this of him? To have him idle with the mage without knowing where she was? As though Anders could accomplish something he could not. And what if Anders could not be saved? Was he expected to forget about her? To continue on an endless, fruitless endeavor until one or both of them died?

She could not possibly know what he had gone through in the last five days - all the bystanders he threatened, begged, pleaded with to tell him any kind of lead, how much sleep he lost, how many hours he spent standing in the place where she was taken - she couldn't imagine. All this searching and searching to find any kind of clue as to her whereabouts and this was all he could get? It was all he could do to keep his markings from flaring.

He nearly splintered the door to the tavern going through it. What did it matter? The owner was afraid of him. He would not confront Fenris over something so trivial as a door and if he did, Fenris would just tell him to add it to their tab.

He made his way toward the stairs. He was eager for this night to be over. Then he heard the barkeep call him.

"Er, excuse me, friend!"

He whipped around to face the man, hardly in the mood to talk. "What is it?" he asked, much too harshly.

"S-sorry, I just...I thought you should know that the apprentice is waiting in your room."

"What?"

"Socinus' apprentice. She came while you were away. You said you wanted to see her so I..."

His eyes widened. "Yes. Thank you."

He ascended the stairs wondering what it could mean that this apprentice came at such a time. Was it inopportune or not? He couldn't decide.

He pushed the door open and found her sitting in his bed, fiddling with one of Hawke's nightgowns. "Don't touch that!" he snapped, crossing the room to grab it from her hands, only to find she was fixing the hem.

_What kind of stranger goes into someone's room and fixes their clothing?_

She raised her head, her eyes meeting his for the first time. Green eyes like his. Those eyes were framed by an elven face and red hair pulled back into a tight bun.

She looked back down at the fabric and quietly, sadly, falteringly said "Leto."

A beat passed with a sharp inhalation, his or her's, he didn't know.

"I knew you'd come one day."

"And now I am leaving."

"Wait!" Varania called to his back as he attempted to leave. He stopped, but did not turn to her. "I can help you."

"Get out."

"Leto, listen to me..."

"Get out." he repeated, the threat played in his voice and body language. Of all the things that changed since he was with Hawke, he was still a wolf underneath it all. He still had fangs.

"You should consider hearing her out, for Hawke's sake. If that witch was right, she might be our only hope of ever finding her alive." Varric said. Fenris hadn't noticed that he was standing there until now.

"I only wish to help, Leto."

"Don't call me that!" he snapped. "Why should I trust you? All you have ever done is betray me for your own personal gain."

"We don't have a whole lot of options here, elf."

He growled and fell into a chair. As much as he hated it, Varric was right. He questioned Hawke's judgment on the matter, but he had no choice else to trust that she knew what she was doing. "Then speak."

She nodded slowly. "Your servant told me about your curious predicament."

"I have no servants. If you are referring to Bethany, she is my frien...she is Hawke's sister."

"My apologies. Regardless, my master is the best at what he does. I believe he can assist you, and if he cannot, no one can. There is no one in the Imperium better suited to the job."

Fenris said nothing, so Varric spoke up for him. "At what cost, though?"

"Yes, that is rather the issue, isn't it? To answer your question, I truly do not know. As he is my master, I know there will be one, but the magister is eccentric. His fancies change often as the weather."

"So not gold, then." Varric said.

"Highly unlikely. I cannot say what he will ask of you, All I can promise is to take you to him. If I can pay the price, I will. Perhaps it will serve as a beginning to my penance for the shameful thing I have done."

"I would not bet on that." Fenris said.

"I know you must hate me. I want you to know that not a day goes by that I don't regret what I did. I found no pleasure in my decision, but I had no choice in the matter."

"There is always a choice. You chose poorly. Now that I stand before you, you regret your decision. I have no sympathy for you. You are no family of mine."

"I understand." she said tremulously. "That does not mean I should not try." she stiffened, raising her head. "So it is settled. First thing tomorrow morning I will bring you to the magister."

"Yes, and with any luck I will be able to leave again after, freely, though somehow I doubt it."

"You can't believe that. If you think I intend to sell you back into slavery, why would you come?"

"If Hawke's life did not depend upon it, I would not."

"Desperate times, desperate measures." Varric said.


	28. Peculiar

**Fenris**

He did not sleep that night, not that he had since she went missing. His bed was cold without her. It was too quiet without the sound of her even, steady breath. His mind was too charged with fears.

And now he was subjected to the unwanted presence of his sister. Should he have expected anything less from this place but heartache and pain? If he ever did, it was a mistake he would never let himself forget.

Fat yellow fingers of sunlight forced themselves through the curtains to tickle the walls. Fenris found himself dreading the sight of them, even if they did bring him that much closer to her, because they also brought him that much closer to seeing Varania, to another magister.

Finally the knock came at his door. "Le...Fenris?" He sighed and rolled onto his feet. At least she was punctual. The only thing worse than being near her was waiting to be near her. He sheathed his sword and opened the door.

She looked as though she hadn't slept either. _Good._ Fenris thought, though it didn't lessen his anger at the sight of her. He met her gaze and she quickly looked at her feet. "Good morrow."

He didn't have the patience to argue with her on that contention. "It will not take long for me to gather the mage. You may wait by the bar, if you so choose." She nodded and made her way down the stairs, her purple robes swaying at her ankles.

Varric offered to help him carry Anders, but the difference in size made it awkward. Aveline was better suited for the job. Isabela merely watched and laughed at them while they tried to carry the seemingly boneless mage.

Anders grunted as they lifted him between them, a long string of drool trailing from his lips, his eyes crossed. Fenris thought now - more than ever - that they were wasting their time, and it would be kinder for them to put the fool out of his miserable existence. But it was what Hawke wanted, and she seemed to believe it would help them somehow. He resigned himself to obey her wish.

They ambled their way toward Varania and she turned, rising from her seat to lead them out into the blinding light of Qarinas.

Fenris was a little amused to see that there was a carriage waiting for them, pulled by the finest white mare he'd ever seen, and an elven slave as the coach. He shot Varania a glower that could have burned through her. _Have you no shame?_ But she didn't notice.

Varania climbed inside and waved them in. She glanced at Fenris, perhaps expecting some kind of gratitude, he merely motioned for her to carry on.

The ride to the magister's mansion was long and about as awkward as he imagined it could be. No one was willing to make eye contact with anyone else, even during conversation.

"Just how dangerous is this magister?" Fenris asked.

"He will not harm you."

"That is not what I asked."

"Magister Socinus is clever and - as you may well recall me mentioning - a bit eccentric, but his focus is in the healing arts and alchemy. I am certain he could use destructive magics if he so desired, but I have never seen him do so. He is a dignified man of science. A renaissance man. A scholar."

"A man of science, hmm? Has he studied your anatomy yet?" Isabela yawned, speaking everyone's mind.

"I beg your pardon!" Varania huffed. "Soci...the magister and I have a strictly intellectual relationship!"

"Riiight." The pirate turned to Fenris and mock-whispered "They're boning."

The color on Varania's cheeks confirmed it. "Believe what you will, but I assure you, my master will not harm you. You have my word."

"Which is worth less than nothing." Fenris reminded her. "Forget I asked. You are clearly biased."

She sighed and turned away. They were silent for the rest of the trip and they all gave a sigh of relief in unison as the cart drew to a stop. Even Anders did, or maybe that was Fenris' imagination.

The magister's mansion was not what he expected it to be. He'd seen his fair share of magister's homes in his time as a slave, but this was grandiose even compared to that. Blue velvet tapestries lined the windows, a row of grotesque statues depicting the old gods, marble steps leading up to an ornately carved door. Indeed, the building seemed quite out of place in Qarinas, which wasn't much more than a port town compared to Minrathous, crumbling and decaying like the Imperium itself.

Varania led them through the gauntlet of statues, Anders howling all the while. Fenris noticed how the eyes seemed to follow them, if that was a trick of his mind or some sort of glamour charm meant to intimidate, he couldn't tell. There were two golems standing watch at the door, the first he'd seen since his arrival. They made no effort to stop Varania, but as Fenris tried to cross they blocked his entrance.

"Halt." the golem said in a mechanical drone.

"Let us pass." Fenris commanded, he was in no mood for this.

"You will leave your weapons." it bellowed.

Fenris furrowed his brow. Did this magister really think he was so stupid? Was Varania luring him into another trap?

"Absolutely not."

"Then you will not enter. Be on your way."

"_Silentium._" Varania said, and the golems quieted and resumed their positions. "Shall we?"

Fenris gestured for her to move on. He followed her up a tedious flight of stairs, all the more tiring and painful due to Anders' weight on his markings, which were no less excruciating, if not more than they had been the last week.

A massive set of double doors gilded with gold scrollwork at the end of a long hall seemed their destination. Varania's pace slowed as they neared it, her footfalls lighter than before. When they reached the door she stopped and took a bracing breath, touched her hair and pushed the door open.

It opened to a sort of massive study or laboratory with so many papers plastered to the walls that one could not tell the color of paint beneath. Even the ceilings had figures and diagrams painted on them; constellations, mathematical equations, random words. Fenris couldn't believe that any of it could possibly make sense to anyone. There were about a dozen bookcases, overflowing with books, some in the common tongue, some in Arcanum and some written in strange symbols, Qunlat, he guessed. There were models of the human body with pins in it, labeling different parts of its anatomy, and shelves of vials with colored liquids and gels on them. There was a desk covered in papers and books in a state of organized chaos. In the center was a spiral staircase that seemed to lead outdoors, and that is where Varania guided them.

Outside there was a lush garden of herbs and flowers, most of them Fenris could not recognize. There were vines that snaked up towering pedestals, flowers that ranged every color of the spectrum and filled the air with their sweet perfume. There were bushes that bore clusters of fat berries, their scent saccharin sweet and intoxicating. There was even an area roped off for vegetables; tomatoes and cucumbers and eggplant.

"Don't touch anything." Varania warned. "Some of these are poisonous."

_A magister who is not dangerous, indeed,_ Fenris snorted to himself.

A still pond teeming with blue and yellow fish sat in the center. They shimmered as the sunlight hit their scales. There was a birdbath with the most strikingly beautiful songbird he'd ever seen perched on the ledge. It was white with a throat as blue as Hawke's eyes and a long red plume on it's head. It cocked its head toward him, in curiosity rather than fear and let out a lovely, complex song. Even Anders stopped his incessant grunting to listen, a crooked smile on his lips.

"The magister loves songbirds." Varania said. "This one comes around often. He is one of our...one of my favorites. There will be more in spring, I think. And in the backyard there is another larger garden the butterflies and hummingbirds frequent. One is a brilliant shade of yellow with a pink..."

"I did not come to talk about birds." Fenris said curtly.

"Quite right." she sighed, looking a little disappointed. "This way."

She lead them through a dark, damp tunnel which appeared to be some sort of mushroom garden. Even the fungus boasted an impressive spectrum of colors. Some freckled, some spotted or striped, some phosphorescent and glowing green or blue like his markings.

They stepped back out into the light and saw a marble desk with a man huddled over it, surrounded by cages of various animals, some rodents, some dogs, even a small ape banging her fists on the cage. _I know the feeling, friend._ Fenris thought. _All too well._

The magister did not seem to notice their presence for several minutes. Fenris got annoyed of waiting and attempted to approach, but Varania stopped him, furrowing her brow and shaking her head.

His quill worked furiously scratch, scratch scratching things into the parchment as though it were the only thing that mattered in the world. At last he dotted the page with a flourish and threw the quill onto the table, sitting back to check, or perhaps admire his work. After another moment or so he picked the quill back up and added a few strokes of ink to the page. He stood, turning to his guests, a proud smile on his face.

He was younger than Fenris thought he would be, perhaps only a few years older than himself. He had a mop of curly brown hair, and a prominent hooked beak of a nose. He kept his chin shaved close to the skin and his eyebrows perfectly groomed like a woman's. His dress was a crisp white toga with a cloth of gold trim. Fenris could see why Varania considered him handsome, but his eyes were unsettling. They were set too close and they looked almost violet, though that had to be a trick of the light, Fenris decided.

"A lyrium warrior." he noted finally, a smirk played on his lips. Fenris stiffened. "It is not everyday you see one of those."

"This is my brother, master."

He shushed her and circled Fenris, his hands stroking his chin in appraisal, then when he stood before him he stopped. "Intriguing. Have you a name?"

"I do." Fenris said, taking care to keep eye contact.

The magister laughed. "I should have worded my question better. _Mea culpa._ What shall I call you?"

"Fenris."

"I see. I can tell from your eyes you were named well. Too headstrong to be a slave. Only a magister could afford to come to own you, and no magister would be careless enough to let a slave like you walk freely. The only one with magic here is that one," he pointed to Anders. "and he is not dressed well enough to be a magister. You are free, but guessing by your posture, it wasn't always that way. The wolf's fangs, I'm betting." He glanced at Fenris' face to see his reaction, Fenris said nothing. "Fair enough."

Socinus turned to Anders. "Perhaps he is not well-dressed to be a magister, but he is rather too well-dressed to be a drooling invalid. Must be the reason you're here, hm? He is a big one, isn't he? And that lovely hair color. I once tried to bleach my hair to that color but it never looked like that, like spun gold and sunshine. He is pleasing to the eye, I will admit. Pureblood Anders, yes? There is a blip in the Fade when he is here. What is that? An abomination? No...he has a Fade spirit, I think. Interesting. Varania, you should bring me guests more often. This is great fun."

Fenris watched him size everyone else up, though he did so inside his head. Then he turned back to Anders. "Take them down to the examination room, Varania. I will have a look at him after I gather some notes."

"Wait." Fenris said. The magister's eyes twinkled with amusement, perhaps at being given a command by a former slave. "What will you want from us in return?"

"For the examination? Nothing. I think that will be reward in and of itself. For treatment, however, that depends on what is wrong with him and what the treatment is, if indeed it can be treated at all, that is."

Fenris did not react, but the magisters words made him feel unwell. If Anders could not be treated then he was back at square one.

"Do not be overly concerned." the magister said. "I promise that whatever I require of you will be nothing less than reasonable."

* * *

Fenris paced before the examining table, frustrated at how long the magister was keeping them waiting. He didn't have time for this. Hawke didn't have time for this. The others knew better than to try to talk to him when he was in this mood, and he was thankful. Varania looked like she was about to say something once but he shot a petulant glance at her and she thought better of it.

Finally the man walked in with a half dozen books and a thick stack of pages, setting them down at the table in the corner of the room. "Now then." he sat at the desk, picking up a quill. "I will take a brief history. What is our friend's name?"

Fenris almost laughed at the idea of the mage being called his friend. "Anders."

He laughed riotously at this, and then saw Fenris' expression and got ahold of himself. "You're serious, then? Hm. Alright. I suppose Anders will have to suffice." he scribbled something onto the paper. "And what manner of spirit has he?"

"A perverted spirit of Justice. He calls it Vengeance."

More scribbling. "Ah! Fascinating! I have heard of such things happening, though the research on the matter is even rarer than the research on spirit possession itself. How long has he been tied to this spirit of Vengeance?"

"At least as long as I've known him. Which is eight years give or take."

"Hm. And when did the issue present itself? The drooling and grunting and such."

"That is within the last week, though before this he claimed he's been having mental disturbances for months now. He was having hallucinations, memory loss, time lapses, paranoid delusions, trance-like episodes."

"I see. And is there anything else I should know?"

"I am uncertain if this is pertinent, but he carries the taint. He is a Grey Warden."

"Oh, this is a treat!" Socinus clapped his hands. "That is all I need for now. I will take a look at him. You may wait outside the room, or you can have a seat over there if you promise not to disturb me."

"I shall wait outside. How long are you expecting this to take?"

"As long as is necessary." he said waving Fenris off, eager to begin. "Shhh. I need silence."

Perhaps it was wrong of him to leave Anders in the care of this stranger, considering how important he evidently was to Hawke, but he couldn't be bothered to care. He was hungry and he wanted to be away from this magister. The others looked pleased by his decision as well. He did his part, now all he could do was wait.


	29. What the Magister Ordered

**Fenris**

Fenris morally objected to being served lunch by slaves, made by slaves, but he hadn't eaten a full meal in three days and he physically could not reject the feast he saw. There was a lush green salad with fresh vegetables from the garden, olive bread - still warm from the oven - with sweet butter, roast quail, buttered prawns, plum pudding, dates stuffed with cheese and crushed almonds, a bottle of thirty year old Antivan red and a plate of peach filled pastries. He salivated instantly. Varania set a plate for the magister and slipped it under the examining room door and seated them.

The meal was quiet, except for the occasional hum of approval. Even Varric had nothing to say.

When that was over and none of them could eat anymore, Varania led them into the backyard garden, which was possibly even more breathtaking than the other garden. Hummingbirds flitted back and forth between enormous pink clusters of fruity smelling flowers. Iridescent butterflies in shades of blue, silver, purple and black - some as large as his hand - fluttered throughout. Trees with fruit so big and heavy they sagged entire branches, some he had never seen before in his life and berries so fat and juicy they fell from the bushes and splattered when you touched them. There was a pond with lotuses and dragonflies skimming over the surface and frogs jumping from great heart-shaped leaf pad to leaf pad, croaking merrily. Fragrant honeysuckle, pink and white with huge, fuzzy bees in them. The longest vine of maypop he'd ever seen wound around a fence, yielding it's complicated little blossoms in abundance. Soon they would sprout sweet fragrant fruits. Fenris tried one of those once - stole it from the floor when it fell off of Danarius' plate - and got a cruel beating for it. At the time he considered it worth the pain.

And there were songbirds, too, though they were up in the trees, their soprano melodies ringing out and pleasing his sensitive ear. He even caught sight of a rabbit, hiding in a strawberry bush. It frightened when it saw him and took off, it's white tail disappearing behind a bed of orchids.

As much as he hated where he was, he found himself wishing that Hawke could see it all. He could imagine her bending to sniff a fluffy gardenia or plucking a ripe blackberry and offering it up to his lips in exchange for a kiss. She would have been so delighted to see the chubby field mouse scurrying back and forth between his hole and the blueberry bush with his cheeks full of fruit and his feet purple with syrupy juice. She would have squealed with joy, and he would have bent to one knee, taking her hand in his and said...and said..._no_.

A lump grew in his throat. He had to believe that he would get another chance, that she was alright, that he would find her in time. Aveline placed her hand on his shoulder, as though reading his mind. He couldn't think to protest at the unwanted touch or the pain it caused, so he allowed it.

"This will be over soon, Fenris." she said. He nodded, palming his face.

Varania took them up to the library. The walls were covered with shelves upon shelves of papers and books, some with gilded edges, some tattered and dog-eared, and even a couple bound in what appeared to be human flesh. Those were rare even in Tevinter, where the practice of flaying a slave would be considered a peculiarity rather than a heinous crime.

"This is the largest personal library in Thedas." she said, drawing him out of his trance. "If you can think of a subject, the magister probably has a book about it. Some of these were even written by him."

He didn't reply. He was loath to admit he was a bit impressed. What he wouldn't give for the luxury of a library such as this one. He and Hawke only possessed a few books since Kirkwall and they'd read them so many times Fenris could recite some of the scenes by rote.

Reading was a romantic activity for Fenris. It conjured images of quiet nights by the fire at Hawke estate, of wine and gentle guidance, of her finger gliding across the page in his lap. Even after they reunited and he shared her bed each night, Hawke would sometimes disappear into her study and come back with a book. They would curl around each other and he would read to her until she fell asleep in his arms.

And then he spotted the tome. He almost missed it altogether but he saw it out of the corner of his eye. "The Lyrium Warrior." by Marcus Blaesus. He ran his finger along the spine, the cracked leather cool against his skin.

"An interesting read." Socinus' voice came from behind him. "You can have that, if you wish."

He was reluctant to thank the magister, or accept the gift at all, but he really did want the book and he doubted he would ever come across another like it. "You have my thanks." he said, pulling it from the shelf and tucking it under his arm.

"Perhaps it will soften the blow." he said ominously, without any real sympathy in his tone. "Come."

* * *

Anders was awake, staring blankly at the ceiling. He turned as they entered, his tongue lolling out of his gaping mouth like a dog, his eyes far off and unfocused. Socinus resumed his seat at the desk and crossed his legs, bidding them to sit.

"I have good news and bad news for you, which would you prefer first?"

"The good." Fenris said. _Give me something to hope for._

"Very well." he began. "To generalize, the spirit inside him is corrosive. The mind of a Fade spirit is black and white, it cannot suffer conflicting ideologies so it tries to correct itself, effectively eating away at the host's mind. In most cases this is not an issue, because the average person does not have the willpower to struggle against it. Most of the time they will not even know it is happening, they will just gradually acclimate over time. But that is not the case for Anders here. Your friend has fought too long and hard for autonomy against the spirit, which - since they have merged - is a lot like fighting oneself. Thankfully, the merge was never complete, not totally anyway. I can feel the seams where they clash against one another. It is faint, but it is there."

"What does that mean?"

"That means he is completely curable. Well, almost completely. It is doubtful that he will regain much of the memory he lost. There is also a chance traces of the spirit may be left behind, so it is unlikely he will ever be the man he was before the merge, he will likely be something between that and who he was before he started showing symptoms. However, he will suffer no ill effects, he will be more than functional and he will be able to keep his magic."

"What is the treatment?"

"A cutting-edge alchemical process, devised by my own master when I was an apprentice. When he died, I inherited all of his research, and expanded upon it, I might add. It will require red lyrium, the rarest kind. It is highly unstable and highly expensive. Fortunately for you, I happen to have some such lyrium for some...research I've been doing."

"And the catch?"

"Ah, and there's the bad news. Bad for you, at least."

"Am I meant to be surprised?" Fenris snorted. "Name your price."

Socinus smirked. "This must be important. Your urgency led me to believe that this was your lover, but then I caught one of those bitter glances you give him. A lover is involved though, yes? I doubt you would willingly step foot into a magister's home again if that weren't the case." Fenris squinted at him. _Why does he care?_ "And your hands are impatient, always worrying at the red cloth at your wrist, perhaps a favor from this lover? You seem anxious. Time is of the essence. You are at the end of your rope."

"What do you want?" Fenris snapped. He was quickly wearying of this game.

Socinus chuckled. "That is a good question. I did wonder what a former slave and his ilk could offer a man like myself. I could have you pay with a year of indentured servitude, but I can see how that might be unhealthy for me. Your former master learned that the hard way, didn't he? I did get some entertainment out of diagnosing your companion, but now that the problem is solved and my curiosity is sated, I am no longer interested. And that got me thinking, what is even rarer than a perverted spirit possession?"

Fenris' eyes grew wider when he realized the magister's meaning. The mask of indifference was gone now. This he hadn't expected. This he wasn't ready for. "You mean you wish to...to study me?"

"You can't be surprised to hear that you're a novelty."

Fenris shifted under the magister's bemused gaze. "And what would this process entail?"

"You strip down to your smalls and stand still a few hours, while I draw diagrams and ask you questions. It will be awkward, but not painful. There should be very little need for touch, indeed, if there is any at all. I will however, require your full cooperation the entire time. That includes answering any uncomfortable questions at length."

"And what will you do with your findings?"

"I have not decided, and I can't see how that is any of your concern. There is my offer, take it or leave it."

The idea of compromising himself in front of this magister disgusted him, filled him with anger, scared him to death. He didn't need to think about what was at stake, though. There was no price too high.

"So be it." he said quietly.

"Excellent." Socinus said. "I will prepare the procedure at once, but you should anticipate staying here tonight." Fenris nodded, sighing quietly. There was nothing he could do about it. Hawke would have to sit tight.

* * *

The magister summoned them again about an hour later. Anders was lying naked in an empty basin of water, staring at his wet hands as though they were foreign objects.

"How exactly does this work?" Fenris asked.

Socinus was looking down into a book, he did not lift his head to answer. "It's complicated. To understand the process, first you must understand the nature of red lyrium. While normal, processed lyrium is useful for controlling forces beyond the Veil, and allows mages to cross into the Fade. Red lyrium brings a piece of the Fade into our world. It can be used to give non-mages magical abilities, and when used up it returns to the Fade, effectively sucking everything in its proximity back with it. That last property is the one we want, to pull the spirit into the Fade.

"However, as you may well guess, it's highly dangerous. The lyrium must be conditioned to recognize the signature of the spirit and separate it from the host. To do that, we must draw it out, have it take control of Anders and cast magic. More specifically, it will have to use up all of it's mana and all of the lyrium. In order to get the spirit to take control we will have to bring the host close to death, the easiest way to do so without actual lasting harm is via drowning."

"Won't that be dangerous?" Fenris asked.

"That's where the red lyrium comes in. We will use it to create a field that will absorb the magic and bind him within it." he produced a small leaded vial of glowing red liquid from his robe. "It will work." he added. "Shall we proceed?"

"Yes." Fenris frowned. He was skeptical, to say the least, but he was not the expert. It would not do to waste time.

"Then I shall start by preparing the field. Stand back."

He donned a pair of leather gloves and a mask, uncorking the vial. Then he picked up a paint brush and dipped it into the vial, saturating the bristles with the liquid. He drew a complicated glyph on the ground, and cast some kind of spell around it. The lyrium lit up like red electricity and then died down to a faint glow.

"Now, one of you will have to drown him. I have magic, it would not be wise for me to step inside."

"I will do it." Fenris said.

"Very well, but once the spirit takes over you must get out of the field quickly, do you understand?"

Fenris nodded and stepped inside the glyph. Anders looked up at him pitifully. _Does he know what is about to happen?_

His hands descended to the mage's shoulders and with a bracing breath he pushed him under, the balmy water washing over his fingers. The mage thrashed and flailed, trying to rip Fenris' hands away. He bucked against the force pushing him under, huge bubbles of air escaping his lips, golden hair rising to the top of the water to sway like seaweed while he struggled. And then a light erupted from beneath the water, blue-white and brilliant like the moon and stars reflecting off a rippling expanse of ocean. Fenris backed away, stumbling out of the lyrium field and hoped for the best.

Justice stood with Anders' body, turning to Fenris, his eyes white hot and violent. Water dripped down his naked body as he stepped from the basin, pooling at his feet. He looked down at the figure on the floor and cocked his head to the side, then nodded. "So this is how it ends." he said, almost sadly.

Fenris did not expect this. Clearly the magister did not either, as his placid features turned peculiar with curiosity. No one answered.

"I see." Justice said. "Anders' mind is deteriorating. It is unjust of me to remain. And yet, I feel reluctant to leave him."

"You belong in the Fade." Fenris said.

"That is where I came from, yes. I feel no kinship toward the other spirits of the Fade, however. Perhaps if I did, I might have left before."

"You continued to possess a living person because you feel "kinship" toward him?"

"That was part of it." the spirit did something like a sigh. "I suppose I have no choice in this."

"That is true." Fenris said. "Anders is needed to stop a grave injustice from occurring."

"He would not thank me if harm came to her on my behalf." he said. "Very well. It was an interesting experience, to see life through his eyes. People are strange creatures. So fragile, their existence so fleeting. Yet, in the eight years I spent in Anders' mind, I experienced more than I ever have in the Fade. Perhaps this is why demons seek to possess men."

He looked down at he and Anders' shared body one last time and lifted his hands, producing an orb of blinding spirit energy between them, small at first. The fuzzy light pulsed to a beat, like a heartbeat or the drumbeat to a song. Soon it encompassed the entirety of the glyph, swallowing Anders inside it until only his skeleton could be made out through the beam, black as night to contrast. The edges of the glyph became unstable, blinking and flickering and bending. And Fenris felt a tickle on the bottom of his foot. Something so insignificant, like a whoosh of air. And then his head filled with a song, hauntingly beautiful, the words barely coherent, growing now.

There was a noise like a blade slicing through air, like a plunge into cool water. His vision went white and filmy like he was swimming through milk. He felt, rather than heard a scream muffled through the fog - perhaps his own - but he could hear the song clearly as though the unseeable singer were beside him. His air tasted like blood, like metal and lightning. He felt nauseous.

Then it stopped.

He grabbed at his face, shaking violently, desperately trying to make sense of what just happened. "Fenris?" Aveline's voice said.

He pulled his hands away and took in the room around him. The magister was kneeling in front of him, carefully inspecting his face, too close for comfort. "Wh...what was that?"

"I'm not quite sure, but I think your markings may have interfered with the procedure."

His head fell. "So it didn't work?"

"It did precisely what it was supposed to do with Anders. What it did to you, however, I am not certain. Does it hurt?"

"No." he said. "Not any more than usual."

"Any hallucinations?"

"I heard a voice. A song."

"We all heard that, it was the lyrium. Anything else?"

"No." he shook his head. "I feel fine."

"Perhaps it was nothing, then. Still, I'd like to have a look at you."


	30. Rebirth

**Anders**

In an instant he felt eternity stretch out before him and surge through his veins, and then nothing but clarity and peace. He felt lighter, the toll of a decade of carrying two souls washed away over the span of seconds. He looked down and found himself wet and naked, and he thought how appropriate that was, for it felt as though he just emerged blinking and crying into this world like a newborn babe.

He smiled and hysterical laughter or sobs escaped his lips. Or both. Or something in between. This was a new beginning, another chance. He turned to the others around him, Varric, Aveline, Isabela, Fenris - yes, he remembered them all - and said his first words. "I'm...I'm _free_."

"Good to have you back, Blondie." Varric said. "I'd hug you, but you're not wearing pants."

"I don't mind." Isabela winked. And he ran to embrace her, lifting her to twirl in his arms. She laughed and slapped feebly at him. "Alright, that's not exactly what I had in mind. Put me down, you lout."

"I'm free!" he set her down and pecked her on the cheek. "I'm free!"

"Can you be free with clothes on?" Aveline asked.

"Of course." he laughed. "Where are they?"

The magister handed him a pile of clothes and pointed him toward a room to change, and Anders - a grown man, a powerful mage who could snatch a life from the jaws of death or speed it into the abyss with his magic - merrily skipped naked down the hall.

* * *

He slept an entire night, unimpeded by sudden urges to wake up and write, unhindered by words of revolution being whispered into his subconscious to echo down the halls of his mind. He woke up with a spring in his step. He _tasted_ the foods from the veritable banquet the magister called breakfast, rather than just chewing and swallowing for nourishment. Everything was more colorful now without the veil of misery and persecution clouding his sight. Everything was better.

Some of his memories even returned. He remembered a conversation he had with Hawke - what felt like a lifetime ago - about pancake toppings. A more innocent time. She liked her pancakes with fruit, he liked his with honey and melted butter. And then he suggested they try both. The results were extraordinary. He tried to replicate that on his plate at breakfast and it tasted like her smiling kiss, like love and sunshine and rainbows and things he was a bit embarrassed to compare pancakes to, but not enough to stop eating it.

After breakfast, the magister took Fenris back to examining room and left the rest of them to wander the mansion. Anders wanted to see this garden the others mentioned before they had to leave.

The curtains opened and a breath of warm northern air feathered his cheek, gently lifting his hair off the back of his neck. A palette of yellows and pinks and blues dotted the green of leaves and grass. It was as though the flowers were painted on the ground with a meticulous hand to tickle the eye with color. He breathed in the scent of dew and strawberries, warm from sunlight and bent to pluck one overripe berry from the branch and a drop of dew slid down his fingers to pool in his palm. He lifted it to his lips and sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of the fruit, cool juice spraying over his lips and dripping down his chin, it's sweet nectar washing over his tongue and the scent cascading over him in waves. He closed his eyes to savor it.

"Sweet Maker." he moaned quietly and then he felt something nudging against his leg. He looked down to see a red tabby nuzzling against him, it's tail curling delicately around his calf. "Hello there." he said, stroking the handsome fellow's head.

"That's Adama." Varania's posh accent came from just beyond his peripherals. He turned to her. "The magister adopted him to scare off the gophers, but he prefers to sleep all day in sunbeams."

"And why not? I would if I had the option. I'm tempted to do so right now, in fact."

"Feel free. There is a hammock beneath the apple trees if you take this path. I am unsure how long the magister will take with Le...Fenris, but I am certain he is in no hurry."

"Can I ask you something?" he said, sniffing a huge pink blossom, a bee flew out and landed on his nose and he laughed.

"You may."

"What was he like? You know, before?"

Her head fell to stare at her slippered foot and she knelt to scratch Adama behind his ears. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just curious if he was much different than he is now."

"And how is he now?"

"Stubborn, closed-minded, angry...and yet he has a strange capacity for loyalty. It surprises me sometimes."

A smile quirked the corner of her lips. "He was not so different. We were often at each other's throats, but I looked up to my older brother. He was brave and strong and protective of Mother and I, often to his own detriment. You might be surprised to know that he was gentle and affectionate at times, in his own way. I loved Leto. He was my hero."

Anders nodded slowly. "So if you loved him, why did you do it?"

"I was angry." she sighed. "He told me he would never abandon mother and I and I believed him, foolish child I was. Mother and I begged him not to enter the munera, but he would not listen. So great was his pride and his duty to his family. But the man who emerged from that room after, the man with the white hair and the markings, he did not know me. He looked through me as though I were a stranger. I was bitter, so very bitter. I hardened my heart to him. To me, my brother Leto was dead. The person I gave to Danarius was no different than any other slave in the Imperium, aside from his worth. When I saw him, when he remembered me, I deeply regretted my actions, but by then it was too late."

"You're a mage. You could have helped him fight Danarius. You could have tried to make things right." Anders protested. "I have no fondness for Fenris, but even he did not deserve what you did to him."

"You are right. Nothing I can say will ever make it better, so great is my transgression against him."

"You should still try." he said.

"I am trying. I don't even know why I am discussing this with you." She stood and turned on her heel away from him. "Enjoy your nap. I will gather you when the magister is done."

* * *

Hawke was wrapped in a gauzy white dress, her head topped in a crown of flowers, her lips stained with berry juice. She ran barefoot through a meadow of red blossoms, laughing giddily. She turned to him and smiled, her eyes twinkling like wet sapphires or stars.

"I have never seen you so happy." he said.

She pulled him down to ground to settle between her thighs and giggled, plucking a poppy to tuck behind his ear, her hands soft and graceful as if underwater. He felt silly wearing flowers like this, but if it made her happy, he was not about to complain. He bent to and kiss her lips, her breath perfumed with berries, her mouth sweet and sticky. He clasped his hand with hers until they met at the palms. "I know this is a dream, but please don't let me wake. Let me stay in this place with you forever."

She grinned and rolled her eyes. "Anders..."

He needed her. He needed to feel her touch. His body ached for it. His lips met the crook of her neck, warm from sunshine, pale and unblemished like he'd never seen her before. "Not yet, love. First things first." he said, his finger slowly trailing under the hem of her skirt, up her thigh, across her soft lower lips and then inside her. She was soaked to the core with her own fragrant, slippery dew. He hummed in want, freeing his cock from his breeches with his other hand. "Oh, Maker. You're dripping wet."

"Anders..." she purred.

He plunged into her in one fluid movement, shuddering and sighing from the pleasure and closeness in equal parts. "Let me have this." he pleaded. "I have gone without you for so long."

"Anders, please listen." she moaned.

"I will, I promise. I just want to make you come, first." he pushed deeply into her, her whole body rocking from the momentum until her bouncing breasts escaped her dress, her rapturous heat stealing a long quavering groan from his throat. His fingers found purchase in her hair and knotted themselves in. He stared into her hazy eyes. "You feel so real." he said, his eyes rolling back.

"It must be absorbed." she whispered in his ear as her nails skated over his back.

"Hm?" he asked half-heartedly, grazing her white throat with his teeth as he rose and fell into her depths.

"It will destroy everything. It must be absorbed."

He stopped and furrowed his brow, lifting his head to look into her eyes for meaning. _That meant something, didn't it?_ "Hawke?"

"It must be absorbed, Anders."

And she was gone.

* * *

He jolted forward and fell out of the hammock onto the cold grass with an "oof." He stood, rubbing his sore bottom and slipped a hand through his hair. _What was Hawke talking about? Why does it seem so familiar?_

"Oh good, you're awake." Isabela said. "Fenris told me to get you. And just an FYI, he's in a bad mood."

"When isn't he?" Anders asked.

"Exactly. The fact that I'm mentioning it should be a red flag." She linked arms with him and led him inside and through the mansion. That was strange. Isabela never showed any affection for him before. "I'm sure he'll be much happier once you take us to Hawke."

"Take you to...what do you mean by that?"

"Oh right. You were moonstruck." she said. "You're supposed to be our key to finding her. She sent some cryptic message saying you know the way."

"Shit." he sighed. "I don't."

"It will come to you."

* * *

"What do you mean you don't know where she is?!" Fenris slammed his fist into the wall.

Isabela reached out to caress him on the shoulder and he recoiled, backing into a corner to avoid her touch. She tried again and he shot forward to wrap his fingers around her throat. "Keep your hands to yourself." he hissed.

"I was just trying to..." she choked out.

"Don't ever touch me! Is that clear?" the tremor in his voice betrayed his terror.

She struggled to nod against his strangling grasp and he threw her away from him like a doll. He slumped to the ground to curl in on himself with his face in his hands.

Anders always knew that Fenris was reluctant of physical contact, but this was rather extreme even for him.

"Did something happen in that examination room?" he asked, softly. "What did the magister want with you?"

Fenris lifted his head to squint at Anders, stiffening visibly under his gaze. "Do not croon at me like an injured rabbit!"

"You just seem..."

"I have no desire for your spurious well-wishing. Concern yourself with finding Hawke. Where is she?"

"I didn't even know who I was until last night. How do you expect me to find her in a city I've never been in?"

"Just as I thought. This was a waste of time. I should have left you with the magister." he spat out the last word as though it disgusted him. "At least he may have found some use for you."

Anders sat on a bench, curling his knees up to his chest. "I probably do know, I just can't remember." He pushed some stray hairs off his face.

"Well think, damn you!"

"I am, if you'd just shut up!"

"Fenris, maybe it's better if you give Anders some space." Aveline said. She dared not look him in the eye. "If you pressure him, we'll never find her."

The elf huffed and stalked away toward the tavern, stopping only to say "I need to bathe. This whole thing has left me feeling filthy. I am warning you now; do not return without a solution. It will go badly for you." Aveline and Isabela followed after him at a distance. only Varric remained, pacing silently in front of Anders, stroking his chin.

He tried to remember anything from his madness. Things were foggy enough when he was experiencing them at the time, but trying to remember a delusion was proving an almost fruitless endeavor. Everything was jumbled together, devoid of scale of distance or time, like an explosion, like a flash of light in the void of blackness. If he focused too much on it, it made his head hurt, but it also helped to slowly piece apart his thoughts.

At one point he thought he remembered a word, but when he chased it it began to flee, like a dream upon waking. "Damn!" he said. His head ached worse than he could ever remember and he was no closer to an idea.

"What? What is it?"

"I thought I had an idea, but it slipped me."

"What kind of idea?"

"A word...a place or direction or something of that nature."

Varric went silent for a moment. "I could go down a list, see if any of it jogs your memory."

"I suppose it couldn't hurt to try." He sighed and shrugged. This certainly wasn't getting them anywhere.

Varric nodded. "Carastes, Caesura, Eyes of Nocen..."

"No, no, nothing so far away. She's in the city, I think."

"Trade district, the docks..."

"Less specific, I think."

"South, right, straight, west, east."

"That's it!" he exclaimed. "East! Get the others."

"Go! We'll catch up!"

The sun was setting. Soon the streets would not be safe. They had to move quickly. _East. She is east._ He thought. _Hawke, sit tight. I'm coming for you._


	31. Cut to the Chase

**"I Will Find You." song: Rob Dougan - Furious Angels watch?v=jtAmFKaThNE**

**Fenris**

They followed the mage for miles through the dusty, sparsely populated streets until he inexplicably stopped.

"Why are we stopping?"

Anders leaned forward to suck in a choking breath. Clearly he did not have the stamina to run long distances. "There." he said, erupting in cough which quickly turned into a dry-heave. "The Circle Tower."

"She's in the tower?"

"No. But I think when we get there, I'll know where to go next." he said. "Just give me a moment."

"It's almost dark. We can't be in the streets like this." Fenris objected.

"I can't breathe." he panted, spitting up bile. "I'm not built for this kind of endurance."

Fenris sighed and stood in front of the mage, bending at the knee to give him a ride. "We are never to speak of this again."

"Agreed." Anders said and climbed onto Fenris' back, hooking his legs around the elf's narrow torso.

An unwanted flashback of the magister's predatory, wandering gaze bullied it's way into Fenris' thoughts. He pushed it out of his head. Hawke needed him. He would not and could not fail her. When he found her it would all be worth it, he promised himself. No matter the cost.

Fenris felt humiliated, but he doubted he was any more humiliated than Anders. With the added weight, they were slower than before, but at least they were progressing.

After a time, they finally made it to the tower. The shadows were larger there, the crickets chirping out their sad song. Fenris set Anders down while he searched the vicinity for a clue. "East, tower...east, tower...blast! What comes next?"

Fenris surveyed the area. "East, tower, inn? East, tower, windmill?"

"No. No. This one is different. It's not a place or a landmark."

"Not a...then it could be anything!" Fenris growled. "Could be a person, could be a plant, could be a color..."

"Color! Yes, that's it! Red. East, tower, red! Where's red?"

"That's red." Lazarus said, pointing off into the distance at a solitary flag whipping in the night breeze. The colors were muddled from the twilight or Fenris might have noticed it himself.

"Then that must be it. Let's go." Anders said.

"Wait." Aveline said. "Shouldn't we try to look out for guards? What if we're heading into another trap?"

"She's right." Fenris said. "We will have to stick to the shadows from this point forward. Varric, you lead. Aveline and Donnic take the rear."

The dwarf nodded and took the front. He was surprisingly swift and graceful despite his short stature and bulk. He stayed a few yards ahead of them, clearing the path and gesturing when it was safe for the others to follow. At this speed, Fenris estimated that they would reach the flag just before dark. He hoped there would not be much further to go. With this number, it was unlikely they could sneak by unnoticed on uncommon ground.

"Are you certain this is the way?" he whispered, one last time.

"Yes. I can feel something coming from that direction. It's like a ripple in the Veil. The Fade is distorted. It's something big."

"You think this disturbance has something to do with Hawke?"

"I know it." he said.

"How do you know?"

"Because she told me in a dream."

Fenris tensed, doubt worming into his heart. He was never one for blind faith or intuition, preferring to rely on the concrete; logic, instinct, experience, facts. Yet, he had no other option. His instincts failed him thus far. Perhaps it was time to explore other avenues, and if it wasn't, it was too late to go back now.

Varric waved and they turned a corner into a dark alley. The open streets here made him nervous, like something was watching him. It wasn't the first time he felt that way since they arrived.

They found themselves outside a walled area. They staked the perimeter, seeing which entrance would be most vulnerable. There was a wooden door with a pair of distracted centurions in the Northwest, and small gate with a single golem standing watch to the south. All the others were heavily patrolled.

"Door or gate?" Fenris asked Anders.

"I...I can't remember."

"Door or gate?!" he demanded again, readying his weapon.

"I don't know!" he hissed.

"Then guess."

"But what if..."

"You've been right so far." Fenris admitted reluctantly. "If you are wrong, we will have to fight a few extra soldiers. We will win. There's no force in this world that would keep me from her."

"I just..."

"_Futui!_ If the next word out of your mouth isn't 'gate' or 'door' I swear I will feed you my fist and all of your teeth in the process!"

Anders thought about it for a moment, his jaw clenched. "Door." he said through gritted teeth. "If she's dead before we cut through all the guards, I'm going to set your balls on fire."

"Noted. Varric, can you handle those two?"

"Piece of cake." the dwarf said, loading Bianca. "Been awhile since Bianca got any action. This is for you, Hawke." And he let loose two whistling bolts that whirred through the air and caught both guards between the eyes. They fell to the ground and one tumbled down the stairs into the street. Varric took another peek around the corner and then nodded, skirting across the light into the shadows of the wall. One by one, the rest of them followed.

Fenris stole the key from the centurion's belt. He certainly wouldn't be needing it anymore. He slid it quietly into the lock and turned it until it clicked. "Are you ready? There's no telling what's beyond this door. Be prepared for anything." The others drew their weapons.

Fenris pulled the door open and peeked inside. There was a long, narrow corridor with a single sentry standing guard. He stepped into the hall and the man turned to him. "Hey! You can't be in here! How'd you get past..."

He closed the distance and plunged his fist inside the man's chest, narrowing his eyes in threat. "Where is she?"

"Don't kill me!"

"I will ask you once more. Where is the Champion?"

"I...I don't know any champions! I swear it!"

"Wrong answer." he said and he crushed the man's heart, relishing his final gasps of breath a bit too much for his own comfort. He dropped the spongy organ at his feet.

"You didn't have to kill him." Aveline said.

"No, I didn't." Fenris said. "Let's go."

The corridor led to two sets of stairs, one spiraling up to the top of building and one he assumed descended into the dungeons. She has to be down there. He thought. He considered pulling a sconce off the wall, but decided better of it and quietly made his way down into the bowels of the building, their path barely illuminated.

There were two, maybe three voices echoing off the walls nearby, but out of sight. Then there were footsteps coming toward them. Fenris shrank against the wall, tightening the grip on his sword.

"Who's there?" the voice asked, the clicking of boots on the stone floor approaching him until the figure appeared right in front of him. He forced himself to slow his breathing, to not move a muscle or blink. A bead of sweat slid down the back of his neck. "That you, Lucian? Quit playing games, you sod. We've got work to do."

And then he lunged forward, impaling the man through the belly to the guard of his sword and twisted it, before the man could get a good look at him. He kicked him off, wiping his blade on the man's jerkin and stealing his keys, just in case.

"Again, that was unnecessary." Aveline whispered.

"Do you think he would have hesitated to do the same if he saw us? He will be one less person to fend off if we are discovered."

"You are too close to this. You are going to get yourself killed."

"I do not recall asking for your opinion on the matter. Keep it to yourself."

There were four doors on either side of the hall before the bend. The first two were empty, the third had a sleeping guard in it, perhaps he was the other voice they'd heard. Fenris did him a kindness and snapped his neck in his sleep. The fourth was also empty. Hawke must be further in.

They came across a chamber lined with a dozen or so doors. He cursed under his breath. There were forty-some keys on the ring, unmarked. He would have to resort to trial and error until he found the right one and try each and every individual door. Some could be deducted due to their size or shape, but most were roughly the same size. What if each door had a different key? Soon someone would discover the trail of dead guards and find them. There had to be a better way.

"I've got this." Varric said, rubbing his hands together. _That could work._ He thought. Varric made short work of the first door. Light flooded the cell, and a dozen rats scurried away.

Empty.

Isabela began helping Varric, each taking a side, but their progress was much too slow. "She has to be here." Anders said.

"Shh! What was that?" Fenris whispered.

"I didn't hear anything." the mage said.

"I heard it too." Aveline said. "I think someone's coming."

The barely audible sound of chain and footsteps could be heard slowly heading toward them. There were four of them if Fenris was any judge. Someone must have spotted the dead guards. He shot Isabela a pleading look, but she ignored him and kept trying at the door.

Their followers were right around the corner. Their silhouettes on the walls confirmed their number: four guards. Isabela looked like she was about to stealth in and attack, but Fenris made a throat slash gesture. He couldn't afford to risk any of the team. There was a moment of tense silence where neither party wanted to initiate conflict, but both knew the others were there.

Their opponents made the first move. One guard stepped into the light and was instantly run through with Fenris' sword. Another took the opportunity to attack and he ducked just in time, kicking the man's legs out from under him. Aveline rushed forward to join him, pushing the other two back with her shield while he retrieved his sword from the other man's gut.

"Let us put an end to this." he said. He did a quick turn and plunged his sword through another man's chest. Isabela stealthed in behind one and slit his throat. Aveline finished off the last one by decapitating him in a smooth thrust.

"Please tell me you've found her." he said to Varric.

"She'll probably be in the last place we look." Lazarus offered.

"Why would we keep looking if we found her?"

"Exactly." he grinned. Fenris rolled his eyes.

"I hear movement in this one." Anders said. Isabela stepped forward to try that door. "Maker, please let it be her."

Isabela fiddled with locks for a few minutes and grunted, exasperated.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know. These are just simple pin-tumblers. The others were fairly straightforward but this one is giving me hell."

"Let me try." Varric said, pushing his way through.

"Hurry, Varric." Fenris said. "I have a feeling we're running out of time."

Another few moments went by. "Andraste's plush pink nipples! This isn't working!"

"Let me see something." Anders said. He cast some kind of spell on the lock. It glowed and then fizzled out with a click. "Just as I thought. It was enchanted. I dispelled the magic. You should be able to get it now."

Varric worked the locks again and at last, his torsion wrench turned. Fenris did not wait for Varric to get out of the way. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Fenris?" Hawke's voice came from the far corner. "Oh, thank the Maker!" She stood and moved toward him and they crashed into each other, hard, a crushing kiss that took the wind from his chest.

His hands came up to grasp her cheek. "Putavi quia periit. Omni momento erat cruciatu sine te. Tu es vita mea." his voice broke. If he let go of her, he was certain he'd cry. "Don't you ever, ever scare me like that again, Hawke! Do you hear me?" He paused, and then he recalled what happened, and much more sweetly he said "Before you left...Hawke..."

"Don't." she said. "That doesn't matter now. What matters is that you came."

"Of course. Of course I came." he said, squashing her against his chest. He was more than ready to humiliate himself in front of everyone just to have her forgiveness, to do anything to be back in her good graces. The fact that it was unnecessary was why he loved her. This was Hawke. She would not take his dignity from him even if she was owed it, even if he offered it freely.

They embraced each other for a moment or two more before either of them said anything. "Tell me you killed some of these bastards."

He held her at arm's length. "Why? Did they touch you, vitani? They will dine on their entrails..."

"Vitani? No, I'm fine, but we need to stop them. It's some kind of labor camp. They work the slaves and the refugees to death and they've built some kind of...I don't know. A weapon. A powerful one. It's going to destroy Thedas. We can't let them do it."

"But how? There's only us." he motioned toward the others.

"I'm here." Tallis said stepping into the light.

"Tallis?"

"I am here as well." a vaguely familiar Orlesian woman said.

"And me." said an elven girl he was certain he'd never met before.

"By the Maker..._Kallian_? Is that really you?" Anders laughed. "This is unbelievable!"

"You know this person, Anders?" Aveline asked.

"Know her?! That's the Hero of bloody Ferelden!"

"I'm not sure I like these odds, but if anyone could pull a victory out their asses right now, it's this team." Varric said. "I aim to be alive to tell the story."

"We must move quickly." Fenris said.

"But my axe...I can't fight in this." She looked down at herself in her simple linen clothes and bare feet. She sounded a little sad. No doubt, she wondered if she'd ever see her champion armor or her axe again.

"You'll have to take the armor and weapons off the dead for now. With any luck we'll find your belongings somewhere along the line."

"I guess." she frowned.

"Hawke..." he said, not wanting to pull away from her.

He wanted to take her and run from this place and never look back. He wanted to say "I love you." He wanted to say "When this is over, I want to marry you." But everyone was watching, the whole world may as well have been watching, he couldn't form the words in his mouth. He settled for "Fight well, _vitani_."

Her eyes glittered in the dark and she pulled him by the hair onto her lips, a desperate kiss to quench the fear and uncertainty of their lives from this moment forward. It was a fine kiss, but he knew he could never be satisfied, no matter how much time he spent in her arms. It would never be enough. He was doomed to die hungry and yearning for her, tonight or fifty years from tonight. He would go out with her name on his lips - a scream or a sigh, a wish, a plea, a prayer for more.

_Fight well, my life._


	32. Gauntlet

The armor was loose-fitting and loud, the sword was a flimsy piece of trash, but she was just happy to see Fenris, to be out of that dingy cell and if she were honest with herself, happy to see some action. She was weak from lack of substantial food, but powered by sheer adrenaline. It would have to do for the time being.

"Do you have an idea of how far outnumbered we are?" Anders asked, his voice making her snap back to reality.

"Not a clue." she answered.

"But one of you has a plan, right?" Varric asked.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, you know...doomsday devices, evil, hubristic mages bent on world domination or what have you, the fate of Thedas hangs in the balance..."

"Here's a plan: if you see a bad guy, make him hurt but good. You think Bianca can handle that?" Hawke asked.

"You bet your sweet sodding ass she can. Oh, and Hawke?"

"Yeah, Varric?"

"If they don't etch the word 'badass' somewhere on your headstone, Maker as my witness, I'll come back from the dead and do it myself."

"Varric, you should know better. Hawke doesn't die, she just goes to the Void and regroups." Tallis said.

"You're right. I forgot about that time death had a near-Hawke experience." he smiled.

"Hawke doesn't cheat death; she wins fair and square." Isabela said

"Alright guys." Hawke laughed.

"The Fade only exists because demons don't want to live in the same world with Hawke." Varric said.

"Seriously. That's enough."

"Hawke sleeps with a pillow...under her axe." Fenris said.

"_Et tu_, Fenris?" she shook her head.

"I was caught up in the moment." he smirked. "It will not happen again."

They fell silent and the crushing weight of hopelessness descended upon her. Their number did not lend them the benefit of stealth and they could only enjoy the element of surprise until they were discovered. Fenris and Aveline barricaded the hall while they readied themselves for battle. It would serve to stall any attackers, but it also blocked them in. Tension thickened the air they breathed and the walls always felt just a little too tight, as though the fortress itself were trying to squeeze out the intruders. And that gave Hawke an idea...

"I have a plan." she said.

"Tell me." Fenris said, as though she were speaking only to him, as though there was no one else in the room.

"We wait." she paused for dramatic effect. The others stared at her in question. "This is the best possible position we could be in, right here. They have numbers but we have skill and experience. We cannot hope to best them by attacking them out in the open on their own terrain, but here we can use these narrow halls to choke them into confrontation and win. How many do you think could fight side-by-side in this hall?"

"Two, maybe three at most." he answered.

"Right. You and I and maybe Aveline or Kallian can hold the front, here." she moved from the chamber to the entrance of the corridor. "If we put Varric and Laz on crates here, they can whittle them down with their ranged attacks while Isabela and the others use flasks and such to distract and confuse them."

"Yes." Fenris said. "Yes, I think this will work."

The others nodded in approval and began preparing their defenses. They would have some warning when the attack was about to begin, but that could be any minute.

Hawke tried in vain to sharpen her blade against the stone walls. It would more than serve it's purpose. From years of carrying a two-handed axe, her strength would make up for what the sword lacked in sharpness, but it was not ideal. It did not have the reach she preferred, and an axe like her beloved Happy did more than just cut people open. It's imposing sight struck fear into the hearts of her enemies, and fear caused people to become sloppy, make mistakes. She doubted a weapon like this one would elicit any such response. _It's better that they underestimate me. Let them see me as a dime a dozen sell-sword. Let their final thoughts be of how wrong they were._

"Hawke." Fenris said from somewhere close behind her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, it was irregular and short. _Nerves._

"Hm?" She turned.

His brow softened as he closed the gap between them, pushing her into a corner. "I need you to stay in control." he said, over her shoulder, into the wall. "I need you to stay by my side."

It was rare for Fenris to say he "needed" something from her. She knew what he was asking. He didn't want her to go berserk. If she did, she would become bloodthirsty. She would take unnecessary risks without fear or any thought of self-preservation. Her bones would break and she would take hits she might otherwise block. She could become seriously injured and barely bat an eyelash until the frenzy wore off. "I will only do what is necessary." she said. She hoped it wouldn't come down to that, but it might and she couldn't promise Fenris she'd do anything less than her duty.

"No." he said firmly. "I have been through hell this past week without you. I will not lose you again."

"Fenris..." she whispered, staring up at him through her lashes.

Then they heard the sound of footsteps and chain clanking and men shouting.

"Stay in control." he said, stealing a rough kiss from her lips. He took his place, readying himself for the attack. She sighed and took one last look at her pathetic sword and prayed to the Maker that it wouldn't break before the fight was over. "Ready yourselves!" she shouted. They braced themselves for the assault.

The first three men made it down the steps. Varric took them out with Bianca. Another followed. Lazarus lit him on fire. Isabela lobbed a miasmic flask down the hall. The next few men tripped over themselves in confusion. It was easy for Varric to pick them off. Another wave of four men came, two by two. Anders took out the first row with a well-placed lightning attack. The next two made it through the gauntlet. Fenris cleaved through both in a swift movement and they fell where they stood.

The corpses were piling up by the second. The bodies served as obstacles to slow their attackers. They had to climb over their fallen brethren to get to the other side, and that made them slow and vulnerable. One unfortunate man tripped over a loose piece of brain matter and impaled himself on Hawke's waiting sword.

It was working.

They came in groups of four or less. Most did not make it through the hall. Most tumbled into the pile at the bottom of the steps as they tried to climb over. The ones who did make it to her were usually already wounded. Hawke's eyes could not keep up with the arrows and magical missiles. Not one of their enemies got a single hit on them. It was almost boring.

And then a buzz came from up the stairs and blue light filled her vision. A swirling shield of energy made it's way toward her. It deflected the arrows, diffused the magic, ignored the miasmic flasks. Their first real challenger.

Fenris smirked. It was his turn to shine.

A projectile sped toward her and Fenris jumped into the way before she could protest. Years of being experimented on and the lyrium in his skin gave him a tolerance toward destructive magic, and with Anders' protective magic he was able to shrug it off with no more than a wince. He faded into the dark of the hall like a spectre. Even Hawke couldn't keep track of him for long and she knew what to look for.

She heard the sound of his sword bouncing off the shield a few times, the rumble of his voice muttering some foreign curses and then the hall lit up with whitehot light. The shield crackled and then fell. The magister toppled to the ground and Fenris retook his position beside her, his gauntlets a little more bloody than before.

He dropped a heart at her feet as if in offering, like a dog leaving a dead bird in his master's bed. He looked so thoroughly pleased with himself that she couldn't help but laugh. How many hearts had he given her over the years in just this way? She couldn't remember. She always thought it was some peculiar thing Danarius asked of him, but she was starting to think it was some kind of morbid, one-sided inside joke of his. One that she was just starting to get.

"Thanks." she chuckled. "I'll treasure it always."

He beamed. "There's more where that came from."

They came slower now, their appearances staggered by minutes, always one at a time. Among them, there were two more mages, but they were not as formidable or crafty as the first. One narrowly missed Hawke with a fireball, but he fell just like the others, his blood mingling in the pool at the foot of the steps, seeping into the cracks in the tile.

Five minutes went by and no one came at all. They decided it would be a good time to recuperate, not that any of them was particularly tired. Hawke hoped to find some better equipment among the dead. There were golems waiting for them out in the courtyard. They had to be ready.


	33. Boom Boom Boom!

**Battle sequence commence! There will be a rousing speech, there will be blood, there will be walking away from explosions without looking at them. Okay, I may have left out that last one, but you get the picture. :) Thanks everyone for sticking around, despite the slow start. Hopefully this makes up for it. :) **

**"Dragon in the Deep" song: Pompeii - E.S. Posthumus watch?v=GusLypfx7OQ**

**Anders**

Lazarus took a seat beside Anders on one of the crates and sat forward, pushing his head between his knees. "Can you feel that?" he asked hissing between his teeth.

He knew what Laz was referring to but he needed to hear him say it, needed confirmation that he was not alone. "Feel what?"

"I don't know what it is. It's like static in the Fade. Something isn't right here. It hurts."

"Yes. I feel that too. It must have something to do with this weapon Hawke mentioned."

"I wish Bethany was here." he said. "I have a bad feeling. I would have liked to apologize to her, to kiss her once more before..."

"We're all going to make it out of this, Laz." Hawke said, crossing the chamber to clap him hard on the back. "Just think about what you're going to say when you see her again. Do it for her."

_That's all well and good for Laz, but what about me?_ Anders thought. _I have nothing now. Not even a cause_.

When Justice was first exorcised, he felt exultant, free, renewed. Seeing Hawke again, however, reminded him of how alone he was. He was empty inside, his soul torn and serrated upon their separation. He no longer had a purpose, aside from whatever purpose she gave him.

He was ashamed of himself, for what he'd done to her, for what he'd done to the world. So many people died because of his stand, so many more were still dying, would die in the future. There was no end to the bloodshed and, if there was, he couldn't believe it would possibly justify the means. He was a criminal. He was a monster.

Kallian peeked at him from across the room. She looked restless, like she always had. It was strange seeing her again, like a remnant of a simpler past for him, ironic as that may be. As much as he liked the idea of going back to who he was back then, he never could. So many things had irrevocably changed him, for better or worse.

"I just hope she'll forgive me. I'm such an idiot where she's involved." he sighed.

"She'll forgive you." Hawke said.

"Are we ready?" Kallian asked impatiently. No one answered. "Anyone?" Complete silence. "Hawke, this is your crew. You rouse them."

Hawke nodded, and with great gravitas stood on top of a barrel to get everyone's attention. All eyes turned to look at her. She stared back at them and nodded softly.

"Tonight we face an unknown enemy, more treacherous than any other we've known before. I don't know what waits for us out in that courtyard, if it has horns or red eyes or a menacing laugh, but I do know it's big. The corruption of this place runs deeper than a fortress in some port town. It's bigger than any man or weapon in Thedas ever could be. I shouldn't need to tell you that what happens here is only the beginning. You know that, and make no mistake, _they_ know you know that. They want you to believe that means they are too mighty for us to touch. That we will break ourselves against them. That we don't really stand a chance."

She paused and stepped down from her makeshift pedestal, pacing the room and looking each one of them in the eye. The room was deathly silent, but for the clicking of her boots on the floor.

"But I have fought beside each of you now. None of us is weak, not one. Each one of us is an army in our own right but together, we are _unstoppable_. Our enemies want us to fear them, but I say it is _they_ who should tremble! In their haughtiness, they stirred a dragon in the deep! They lit the fire and now they must watch it consume them! Tonight we give the Archon a terrifying glimpse of his future! Tonight we take first blood from the slavers and perverts and tyrants of Tevinter! Tonight we sever the withering, gangrenous foot of the Imperium! Tonight we take up the torch for Andraste and feed the first of these blighters to the Void! Are you with me?!"

A chorus of shouts erupted from around him. He raised his fist in the air, his mouth agape. He was cheering too, much to his surprise. Hawke took a few steps toward the entrance of the corridor and without looking back said "Then I think it's time for some thrilling heroics." as she pulled her sword from it's scabbard.

The courtyard was in a state of anarchy. The strongest and most spirited of the prisoners using the opportunity to attack the golems and the remaining guards already, using improvised weapons or stolen swords from the fallen. Others cowered and hid. A fire broke out in the center of the green, black smoke rising high into the air. Golems rumbled the ground beneath them, their corpses strewn about in heaps and piles among those of prisoners and guards alike.

Anders scanned the area for Britta or Nathaniel. He'd only met Alistair that one time during the Qunari invasion and he doubted he'd recognize him. Nevertheless, it was too chaotic, the population too dense. He couldn't see anyone he recognized among the dead or living.

Hawke and Fenris immediately joined the fray and it was all he could do to keep up with them. If she was less confident with the borrowed sword than her axe or if she was tired from being half-starved, she didn't show it. She had no trouble keeping up with Fenris or matching his death count, if Anders was any judge. He had forgotten what they were like when they worked together on the battlefield, so long had it been. They had a sort of furious rhythm, both disturbing and beautiful to watch, like a terrible dance choreographed by death itself. Not a single step or thrust was ever wasted.

Anders did not know whether or not he needed to conserve his mana, but he preferred to err on the side of caution when Hawke was involved. He only used enough magic to augment everyone else's attacks, and used his staff to lend what little damage he could offer. Unless of course, someone was foolish enough to attack him, then he'd make them bleed. It allowed him to watch Hawke work at her full potential.

She threw herself into a centurion, the momentum pushed him back onto Fenris' blade. She did a half-turn, sundering another man through his gut. They espied a golem from a few yards away and she launched herself onto it with a forceful strike to it's head. Fenris followed. He rained a flurry of slashes across it's midsection. It struggled to follow his movements and punched the ground to stun him. Fenris spun out of the way and attacked from the back. Hawke continued to chip away at its head until it fell. Finally, it disassembled with a ground-shaking crash. Then, it was onto the next one.

Hawke was all blood and steel and fury and Fenris was her cruel herald. A flash of silver-white hair before an axe through the back or the belly. Leather and lyrium and then death and the Void.

Hawke let out a fierce battle cry and Fenris' voice joined hers. Enemies ebbed away from them in fear. She chased them down and soon the ground claimed them like the others. Red soil to match grass with dark red blotches and stone stained red. The air was acrid with the scent of blood and metal. Shrieks of pain and fervor chased away every thought that wasn't of survival, of keeping her alive.

Then Hawke screamed a blood-curdling scream and fell to her knees.

"Hawke!" Fenris shouted, beheading her attacker in a smooth arc. He turned to Anders. "Do something!"

Anders ran to her, nearly tripping over the rubble of a wasted golem. His knees hit the grass, wet with dew and entrails. She moved her hands to reveal a deep laceration in her thigh where her armor didn't cover, glistening darkly. "Oh, Hawke." he gave a sigh of relief.

"It's nothing, Anders." she said. He touched his fingers gently to her wound and she hissed loudly. "I've given myself worse."

He gave her a chastising look, but said nothing. He began casting healing energy over the gash. He was vaguely aware that Fenris was still fighting around them, but the chaos died down quite a bit as their enemies' numbers waned. Hawke looked annoyed at the delay. He knew if she could stand she would still be fighting.

The wound fused together and left a purple-red lightning bolt across her white skin. She was right, it was not as bad as it looked. It must have been close to muscle to bring her to her knees, but with the help of his magic, she could continue to fight. He helped her to her feet and she sprang off to aid Fenris, who'd evidently bitten off more than he could chew.

He was surrounded, but Hawke cut through to him and they fought back-to-back. Fenris with his sure, graceful strokes and footwork, Hawke with her vigorous percussion and might, yet somehow they seemed like one unified weapon, monstrous and deadly. A heavy storm of blood and carnage showered over everything in their vicinity.

The battle wore on for hours and Anders began flagging long before Hawke and Fenris ever showed any signs of weariness. How they managed to maintain their level of activity was a mystery to him. He could do nothing but stay close and hope no one needed him until he caught a second wind.

When the fighting dissipated, when there were no more assailants, a cheer roared from that place so loud that it could reach the ears of the entire Imperium and wake the Archon in his sleep. Hawke launched herself at Fenris and smothered him in kisses. Anders watched pitifully from the sidelines.

They dusted themselves off and tried to find the missing companions. Britta was easy enough to find. She was the only female dwarf and she was drenched from head to toe with gore, grinning wildly. Nathaniel found them first and broke into a jog to get to them.

"Anders, you are a grisly but welcome sight!" he shouted, clapping him on the shoulder.

Kallian crossed over to them, incensed by the sight of Nathaniel and pushed him on his ass.

"Maker's breath, Kallian! What have I told you about doing that?!" he shouted, furrowing his brow. "One might think the battle would tire you out but..."

"Shut up, Howe." she said. "Where's Alistair?"

"Kal?" Alistair said from a few yards behind her, limping in her direction. "Oh, thank the Maker."

Kallian turned toward him and promptly gave him a right-hook to the eye. Anders grimaced as her fist made contact. It was enough to stagger the wall of a man backward

"Oof! Ow! Why?! Why would you do that?!"

"Because you're a blighted idiot! That's why!" she screamed in his face.

He rubbed his eye. "Love you too, dear." he said.

"You almost got yourself killed! I spent the last week thinking you were dead or worse and you show up with a limp?!"

"Er...sorry? I'll try to be more hurt next time, I promise."

"You're a fool." she said, reaching out to caress his cheek. He recoiled as if she were going to strike him again, but when he saw that she was done with the domestic abuse he relaxed and nuzzled into her palm. "I love you."

"Your love hurts." he whined. She laughed and kissed him gently.

Anders sighed and took a seat against a wall, allowing himself a moment to relax before they moved on. This night was taking a toll on him, and it wasn't over yet. They still needed to find Velanna and Merrill. They still needed to destroy this weapon. And then they would need to get away.

He was tired, hungry and thirsty, and the constant distortion in the Fade translated into physical agitation. For all the cheering, he didn't feel victorious. He felt alone.


	34. Sneer

**Hawke**

Fenris pressed her flat against the wall, his hair mottled and matted against his head with blood, his fingers sticky and crusted with it. He pressed his lips into her neck hard, his teeth grazing her skin. The grime didn't seem to bother him. An unbroken, rapid-fire stream of Arcanum left his lips, something about how torturously long this was taking, something about there being no time to savor the victory, something about wanting her, something, something "fuck the magisters." She caught the basic gist. She threaded her fingers through his, ignoring for the moment the spectacle he was making of them, since it was so rare for him to show affection publicly. Perhaps she would have to get captured more often.

He seemed desperate to be near her, unvexed by the lack of privacy or the danger they were still faced with. One might think she'd been away for years and not just a week. She didn't mind, but she was curious about it. If they made it through this alive, she would have to ask him why.

"Fenris." she whispered to him. She wasn't eager to end the succession of fervent kisses, but that was hardly an excuse to be careless. She could only imagine the stories they'd tell if the Champion of Kirkwall died during an enraptured moment of revelry with her handsome elven lover.

_Oh, but what a way to go! _

"Hm?"

"We still have work to do."

He sighed and pulled away from her, leaving one last kiss on her chin and taking a peek at her eyes from under his full lashes. "Lead on." he said.

The courtyard had only two doors in its high stone walls, the one they came through and another up a short stair. Logic dictated that the other would lead them to the mages, and - with any luck - another exit.

Hawke stared out onto the crowd of faces, most unfamiliar, some younger than she'd prefer to acknowledge. None of them were soldiers. They were gardeners and cooks and refugees. Some spilled their first blood on this day. They looked at her as though she held their entire world in her hands, as though she was their savior. It was a little dizzying. She spun back to Fenris, the only stable thing in this place at the moment. He nodded solemnly, but said nothing. Hawke knew he supported her implicitly; however, this was something she needed to do for herself. He did not want her second-guessing her instincts. He would not rob her of what little certainty she had. For all his might and independence, he was not a leader. She was.

She sighed and marched up the stairs to the wooden door and pushed her way through it. A long set of stairs led down into the ground, and firelight danced on the slate walls of yet another far too narrow corridor from a long way off. The idea of stealth was laughable now, but a hush fell over the group even so. If they spoke, they spoke in whispers and they followed at a distance.

Only Fenris stood at her side and a little in front of her, perhaps he thought he could protect her better this way. She wished he would stop seeing himself as a bodyguard, as a flesh and bone shield to defend her. She knew it wasn't that he thought he was a more skilled warrior, or that she was too weak to defend herself. They were equals. Fenris said so, himself; when he'd found Hawke, he met his match. Her strength to his speed, his agility to her hardiness, his boldness to her cunning. They did not compete, they meshed and attuned their abilities to become the deadly, unstoppable force they were. But Fenris had never really given up on the idea that he was expendable. Perhaps he never would. That idea disturbed her. She couldn't imagine her life without him.

The echo of plate and the falling of feet on stone reverberated down the halls, announcing their approach to whoever might have ears to hear it. No sounds came from the other end aside from the crackle and spit of flames if Hawke listened carefully. She stepped through the threshold and found a man at a desk, jotting a few last notes on a piece of parchment with one hand and gathering his papers in a stack with the other. He did not seem in any kind of hurry.

Hawke was amused by the sight and allowed him to finish, making no effort to stop him. Finally he stood and turned to the group and smiled, despite how outnumbered he was, his violet eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Socinus." Fenris snarled. "I might have known you were involved somehow."

He meticulously set his papers aright, so that all the edges and corners matched up and tucked them into a fat book, but the only sign of acknowledgment he showed to Fenris' remark was a self-assured, crooked grin.

"Right, well, we're going to kill you now." Hawke said.

"Ah, ah, ah." he said, holding his hand up. "Let us not be hasty." his heels clicked on the floor as he approached her. Fenris moved to block him. "Perhaps we can work something out."

"The only thing I want right now is to kill every last one of you monsters." she said over Fenris' shoulder.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Varania?" he called.

"Fenris?" Hawke choked out, confused. He bristled but said nothing.

After a second or two they heard soft beslippered feet gliding across the floor in a room caddy-corner to the one they were in, and another pair of feet with it. The next thing she knew Bethany spilled into the room on her knees, bound and gagged. Varania did not dare look a single one of them in the eye.

"Beth!" Laz cried out from somewhere behind Hawke. "You bastards! She had better not be hurt or I'll..." Bethany shot a pleading look at him and he discontinued his threat.

"When I heard that the Champion and her little entourage escaped, I knew it was the end for this facility. I'm no fighter, and even if I was, I'm in the minority here. So I thought to bring a little _collateral_."

"Let her go, Socinus." Fenris said.

"I intend to." he said. "I was just getting to that part."

"How do you know so much about me?" Hawke asked.

"I've been watching you since you arrived. Surely a peerless warrior such as yourself could sense that something was amiss here, no? Or perhaps your instincts are not what they used to be?"

"My instincts are just fine." she said. "Speak your piece."

He chuckled. "No nonsense, then. Straight to business. Fine by me. All I want is my research and my life. Just a few lousy pieces of paper and a bag of bones. All I ask is that you do not follow me when I walk out that door, and no harm will come to your lovely little sister."

"And if I do follow you?"

"I should think that was fairly obvious. If you follow me I will bleed her. I will probably never make it out of this building, but I will take a few of you with me. And not that I want to kill anyone, but your little elf friend there will be the first to go."

His threat was well-placed. That was certain.

"And what of Varania? Will you continue to hold her in thrall?" Hawke asked.

Fenris whipped around to her. She stared through him. This was not the time or the place for that argument.

The magister laughed. "I am not certain what you've heard of Tevinter magisters, but Varania is no thrall. She has always been free to come and go as she pleases."

"Varania? What do you have to say about this?"

The woman glanced up at Hawke from her feet, sheepishly. Her eyes were so familiar, just like Fenris', and yet they also held the darkness of treachery and betrayal, those alone made them them altogether unfamiliar. "I...I appreciate your concern, messere." That was all she said, and those eyes disappeared behind their lids.

Hawke nodded disappointedly. There was no real option here for the moment. "Then go." she said to both of them. "But this is not the last you'll hear of me. I will hunt you across Thedas, through the Fade, to the Black City itself if I must. There will be no place in this world or the next safe for you. I _will_ find you and I _will_ make you pay for what you did here."

"I look forward to it." Socinus smirked and gave a slight bow. He turned and walked out the door, Varania in tow.

As soon as the door closed Lazarus pushed Hawke out of the way with a force she never imagined he possessed. "Beth, oh Beth." he cried, gently cutting away her gag and the binds at her wrists. His fingers worked themselves into her hair. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, Laz." she said. "I'm so sorry about everything."

He traced her lips with a single finger. "I'm such an idiot. How could I ever resist you? How could I ever turn you away? There's not a moment that passes where I don't kick myself for being so stupid. And the worst part is that I know well enough to see that this won't be the last time I'm going to stick my foot right down my throat, but _Maker's breath_, I want to learn. I want you to teach me how to keep you happy, Bethany. I can only hope that it's enough."

"Just kiss me, Laz." she said. "It's more than enough."

And kiss they did.

Hawke felt a little like a voyeur and decided maybe it was time to move on when she saw a huge chest in the corner of the room. Her breath caught as she dared to hope...

She flipped the latch and pushed the lid open and YES! It was her equipment! She had never been so happy to see her axe before in her entire life. She pulled her armor from the chest and ran into the adjacent room to dress at once. Marvelling at how good the fit and the weight was compared to the ridiculous makeshift costume she wore a moment before. Her breasts thanked her most of all, as there was not much in the way of room for them in the borrowed ensemble.

Tallis, Leliana and Kallian quickly followed. There was nothing there for Alistair, Britta or Nathaniel, let alone Merrill or Velanna. Thankfully, none of them were wearing anything irreplaceable at the time of their capture, like Cailan's suit of golden armor that Alistair salvaged from Ostagar. That was priceless, and he kept it back in Weisshaupt. No, he'd been wearing standard issue Grey Warden chain that day. Britta was a little annoyed about her mace, but Hawke promised to buy her an even bigger one and that cheered her right up.

* * *

The first thing she saw as she pushed open the door was the orbiting ball of dark energy and lyrium, pulsing erratically beneath it's leaded glass prison, which she guessed was the only thing keeping it stationary. It looked unstable even compared to her first experience with it.

Then she noticed the place itself. The stench of decaying flesh and putrescence hit her like a wall. Bodies lay strewn across the green, drained of their remaining blood post-mortem and left to rot in the open. They were sickly thin, and pale, with patches of hair missing from their scalp and eyebrows.

There was an area roped off for sleeping and beside it an area of what seemed to be human waste and long decaying corpses. The smell was overpowering there.

The living mages had taken the opportunity during the chaos to scatter and do away with their remaining captors, buckets of raw lyrium were simply tossed by the wayside at first chance. Some of the prisoners stared at her through faces too gaunt and eyes too dull. How long had they been here? She scanned the area for any sign of Merrill, but she didn't see her at first.

The door on the other side of the green opened and a man stepped through. An elven man, or so she assumed. If he was indeed elven, he was the biggest elf she'd ever seen in her entire life.

His silver armor glinted in the sun as he descended the stairs. Fenris moved to stand in front of Hawke, but she pushed him away with the flat of her axe.

And then the man said something Hawke never expected him to say.

"Fenris. So we meet at last."

Fenris stiffened. "Do I know you?"

The man reached for his sword, an action that was met with the sound of a dozen weapons being drawn at once. He chuckled menacingly. "Not quite."

Hawke frowned. She had a bad feeling, worse than she'd been having since she arrived in this Makerforsaken place. She did not lower her axe.

"But you know me."

"Know is a strong word."

"Explain yourself." Fenris said.

The man took a few slow, casual steps toward him, his blade scraping across the ground as he did, a self-satisfied grin playing across his features. "I am an admirer, you might say. Call me Arsham."

"Arsham is a Qunlat word." Tallis said. "Yes, I see it now. He's half-kossith."

_That would explain his size._ Hawke thought.

"What do you want from me?"

A flicker of malice flashed in his eyes. "To kill you, of course."

"But why?!" Hawke gasped.

"A glory hunter." Fenris answered for him, disgusted. "He thinks killing me will make a name for him in Tevinter. He is not the first I've met."

"And why wouldn't it?" Arsham snickered bitterly. "You have quite the reputation here. A slave who not only won the munera, but who escaped his master's grasp twice. The slave who killed the mighty Danarius. The slave who runs with the Champion. You are the face of rebellion here in the shadows of Tevinter. If I kill you, I kill everything you represent. I become the greatest sword in the Imperium."

"And what makes you think I'm going to let you lay a hand on him?" Hawke growled.

"His pride, obviously."

_He has a point._

"I do not want to kill you," Fenris sighed. "but if a fight is your wish, I will grant it."

"Excellent."

"Fenris, you don't have to do this. This man is nothing. Let's just kill him and leave this place." Hawke pleaded, placing her hand on his shoulder. The feeling of dread did not wane. Fenris didn't answer, just patted her hand gently and swept it off of him, poising himself for battle.

A crowd quickly formed around them. They circled each other like beasts, sizing each other up. Arsham faked a few lunges in Fenris' direction, perhaps to judge his reaction time, or perhaps just to get a rise out of him. Hawke knew firsthand just how difficult that was to do, at least when Fenris was being obstinate about it.

Finally Fenris made the first move, dancing in and out of Arsham's swings as quick as lightning, he landed a swipe across the half-elf's cheek. Not hard enough to cause permanent damage to anything but his ego.

He orbited the much taller man with a borderline offensive speed, being careful to dodge each arc of his sword, taking bold glancing blows at him when he could. He was not toying with Arsham, just trying to ward him off. It was clear who was the more experienced fighter.

"You do not need to do this." Fenris said easily avoiding another strike.

"That is where you are wrong. One of us dies this day. Either way, I will sleep easy tonight."

Arsham struck the earth with the one of his palms and it lit up with an intricate white-blue pattern. Fear clutched Hawke's chest. _An arcane warrior!_ "Fenris, be careful!" she shouted, but it was too late. Fenris had already danced into the glyph and was instantly paralyzed.

"And now you die, Fenris." Arsham cackled.

Hawke reached for her axe. Fenris' pride would mean nothing if he wasn't alive to enjoy it. But as her fingers twined around it's handle, something strange happened. Fenris' eyes glowed bright blue to match his flaring markings. His veins pulsed with luminescent blood. His entire body lit up like a beacon. He reached into Arsham's chest, and Hawke did not miss the look of abject fear in the man's eyes, nor did she deny her own fear at the unholy sight of him.

He looked like Fenris. He wore his clothes and bore the same brands as the man she loved, but this stranger standing before her with glowing eyes conveying no hint of compassion could not be Fenris, could he?

"I gave you a chance. You should have walked away."

And with that he crushed the man's heart and pulled his hand out again. His glowing eyes faltered for a few seconds and then they dimmed.

But before she could move to Fenris' side the ground began to shake and she heard the sound of glass cracking under pressure. Her eyes shot up to the vortex of dark magic, a beam of red light bursting through a long cleft in the dome.

She was vaguely aware of the scrambling of feet, the screaming of refugees, a pair of hands tugging her arm out of harm's way and Varric pleading with her to get away from it, but out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Fenris moving toward the chaos, humming. In a trance.


	35. It Must Be Absorbed

**'The Sacrifice' Song : Buckethead and Friends - Coma /watch?v=tbI8C_56g00**

**Fenris**

The song was like a balm, like the touch of his mother's lips on his forehead, imagined and forgotten and remembered again. For the first time in his life he felt no pain, no fear. The grass on the soles of his feet felt cool and comforting, the voice in his ears plucking at his heartstrings and bringing him nearly to tears. _So beautiful._ He wished he could understand the words.

One of her fingers, red and bright and thick caressed his chest through his leather armor. She was warm and soft and he wanted to embrace her, to fold himself in her arms and go to sleep at last. He was so weary of fighting, of struggling against every force the world could throw at him. He wanted rest and only she could give it to him.

As he approached, the song grew louder until her voice resonated deep in his chest, vibrating his blood and bones and skin. He was filled with her, and he was elated. He smiled gleefully.

And just when he came close enough to touch her, the song stopped. The glass shattered and rained upon him. He felt his markings expand well beyond his skin and sharp excruciating pain filled every nerve, every fibre of his being. He screamed.

He did not know how long he stood there screaming before he fell to the ground among the shards of glass and slick of blood, most must have been his own. All he knew is that one moment he could hear the song and the next, Hawke was standing over him, crying out.

"They're turning red! What's happening?! Fenris! Fenris, speak to me!"

"H-Hawke?" he coughed. Even speaking was painful.

"Anders, do something! He's bleeding everywhere!"

Anders fell to his side. "I can stop his bleeding but..."

"Just do it!" she said.

The familiar feeling of healing magic ghosted over his body once, twice, a third time, and then Anders fell back onto his ankles and gasped. "He won't bleed out, but Hawke, the lyrium in his skin is being corrupted. That's why his markings are turning red. When he absorbed that thing..."

"Speak the king's tongue, Anders!"

"It's poison Hawke. He has so much of it in him. He's dying."

"I can feel it worming it's way through my veins." he sputtered. He tasted blood. The pain was something immense, crushing bone and marrow and tendon and melting flesh.

"There must be something we can do!" she sounded desperate. "Fight, Fenris! I can't live without you!"

"But you must."

"I refuse!"

It was a struggle to reach out and take her hand, he laced his fingers through hers. His blood felt like needles in his veins. "Quiet, Hawke." he said hoarsely. "I do not fear death." Though it was a lie, he didn't say it for himself.

"I won't lose you!"

He smirked despite himself. _Stubborn to the last._ He thought.

"Fenris, please don't leave me." she pleaded.

"I don't exactly have a choice in the matter." he chuckled and then grimaced at the pain. "Hold me." It was so very cold.

She lifted him into her lap, a tear landed on his lips. He licked it away. "There's something I've been meaning to give you." he tried to reach into his pouch, but he was shaking and uncoordinated and he fumbled with the closure. "In my pouch."

She reached in and pulled out the potions and bandages and set them aside. When she finally found what she was looking for her eyes darted up to his. Hurt and shocked and angry, she pulled the ring out.

"No!" she sobbed. "Fenris, tell me this isn't what I think it is."

"I should have asked you years ago. Would that I hadn't been such a coward, and now it's too late. You've given me so many things to live for. I regret that I do not have a lifetime to give you, but in the short time I've had you, I've loved you enough for three. And if for one moment I deserved this," he traced a crooked, clumsy x over her chest where her heart was. "If I ever deserved your love, then I die a happy man."

"Shit." she said, quaking with heavy sobs. She uncorked one of the health potions and lifted it to his lips, he sucked the bitter liquid down. It wouldn't do much more than ease the pain, but he was grateful for the gesture.

"_Valea_, be strong." He turned his head back to Anders, to ask the question he dreaded most. "Take care of her?"

"Of course."

And though it was not what he wanted, the answer gave him a little peace.

"No! You don't just give me away and die! You fight! You fight for me! You fight for us! You promised me you'd never leave again, remember? If there's a future to be had...if there's a future..."

"Kiss me goodbye." he said, his voice quavering. He could not walk into oblivion without feeling her lips one last time.

Her mouth met his. It was a kiss of desperation, like she believed she could transfer a little of her life into him if only she willed herself to, like she wouldn't lose him if only she tried hard enough. He wanted so much for it to work, if only for her sake. He did not want to leave her like this. He ached with emptiness when she pulled away.

"Fenris, I love you." His heart attempted to leap at those words even now, even after all this time and everything, even when each beat was an event of it's own.

"I love you, my _vitani_. My life."

She looked back down at the ring and slipped it onto her finger. "My answer would have been yes." she choked. "Nothing would have made me happier than to be your wife."

He forced himself to smile. "You would have been good at it, I think."

"It's not fair." she wept bitterly.

He laughed, but it came out as a cough. "It's more than fair. To die with your love is a blessing, but to die in your arms...to be able to kiss you one last time...it is more than I could have possibly hoped for, Hawke. I am content."

She held him there for a time, weeping into his hair and planting furious kisses into his cheek and eyes and lips. The pain wasn't so bad now. It wouldn't be long, if he was any judge and if this was the way he was meant to die, then he really wasn't afraid after all.

"Anders, aren't you going to tell them?" Merrill asked tremulously. She sounded so far away, like he was hearing her from underwater.

"Shhh!" Anders hissed.

"They have a right to know all their options." she insisted.

"Even you can't possibly call that an option!" the mage snapped.

"What, Merrill? Do you know a cure?" Hawke asked, feeding Fenris another health potion. It was unnecessary at this point, but he didn't want to tell her this.

"Not exactly, no. But I know how you can save Fenris."

"Tell me!"

"You won't like it." she said solemnly.

"Blood magic." Fenris growled.

"Yes." Merrill said solemnly. "The sacrifice would require a lot of blood. All of it, in fact."

"Do it." Hawke said, crystal clear, unfalteringly determined.

"What?!" Fenris asked, suddenly powered by fear and elfroot. He grasped onto her hair and noticed that he was shaking. "No! You cannot!"

"He's right, love. You can't do this. This is not an answer."

"There was never a question." she said.

"I won't let you!"

"You owe me your life several times over, Anders." Hawke said. "The least you can do is let me do with mine as I see fit."

Doubt flickered in the mage's eyes.

"Hawke!" Fenris called, but she ignored him.

"Sister..."

"Hush, Bethany. My mind is made up." Hawke said wrapping her arms around her sister's neck. "You are the last Hawke. Make father proud. I love you. I'll say hello to everyone for you."

"Hawke! Listen to me, Hawke!" Fenris pleaded.

"I urge you to reconsider, Hawke." Aveline said.

"You've been a good friend, Aveline. I trust you to make sure Fenris doesn't throw his life down the bottle when I'm gone."

"As you say." she said, smiling weakly. She hugged Hawke awkwardly and turned back to her husband.

"Hawke, you can't!" he cried out in anguish, like a child having a tantrum. She glanced in his direction, but quickly looked away as their eyes met.

"So this is it, yeah?" Isabela asked, her voice breaking in the middle. "I never did get to sample your nectar."

"You're not a bee, Isabela. And I'll thank you to keep your hands off my man once I'm gone, or I swear I'll haunt you."

"I...I'll consider it." the pirate said, hugging Hawke around the neck. "Be good."

"Been real, _salroka_." Britta said laconically.

"That it has."

"Hawke! Stop this foolishness at once!"

Lazarus hugged her around the waist. "I'm really bad at this."

"Take care of Bethany." she said. "And make sure my pyre is impressive."

"Right. That I can do." he said, taking his place back at Bethany's side, his arms winding around her, clutching her to his chest. "Thanks for everything."

"You sure about this, Hawke?" Varric asked. "There's no do-overs."

"HAWKE! HAWKE, LOOK AT ME! PLEASE!" Fenris screamed.

"I'm sure you'll do justice to my story, Varric."

"Yeah, well...you made it pretty easy." he sighed. "I'm not a fan of tragedies. Or goodbyes. I meant what I said, though. I have every intention of carving the word 'badass' into your headstone."

"You'd better." Varric reached out his hand to shake, but she pulled him in for a hug anyway.

"Please..." Fenris said, barely above a whimper.

"I've always loved you." Anders said, throwing his arms around her. "Is there no way that I can make you change your mind?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Take care of yourself, Anders. No more explosions."

He laughed through his tears. "From the moment I saw you, I knew you'd destroy me. I was wrong, but I was also right." and he kissed Hawke on the forehead.

"Are you ready, _lethallan_?" Merrill asked tearfully.

"Yes." Hawke nodded.

"Hawke, I will never forgive you!" Fenris said through gritted teeth. "If I live I will spend the rest of my days cursing your name!"

Finally she turned to him, her eyes puffy from the well of tears behind them. At least she was listening again. "So be it." she said thickly, her eyes glistening. "I would rather die with your hate than live without your love."

"You would abandon me and everything I stand for! What you propose to give me is not life at all! This is not sacrifice! This is betrayal!"

"This is _love_, Fenris. Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't do the same if the tables were turned."

He had no answer for her, none that he was willing to say aloud, because there was truly nothing he wouldn't do to keep Hawke alive and safe. He hated blood magic and demons, but he would gladly give his life in her stead. He did not stand on principle where she was involved.

"Hawke, I beg of you, do not do this thing. Don't make me live with your ghost. Don't make me wake up without you. If you love me, let me go. Let me die." He pulled himself with the little strength he had left to her side. "I'll visit you in your sleep. I'll watch over you from beyond the Veil. One day we'll be together again, I swear it! You just have to say goodbye for a little while."

"You know I can't do that, Fenris." She looked down at him with something like determination or severity, but moreover there was sadness.

As a last desperate approach, he reached for an oversized piece of glass and brought it to his throat. He trembled as the shard touched his neck, colder than ice. He did not know if he truly had the strength to break skin.

And then her warm hands fell on his and she wrested the glass handily from his weak fingers. She pulled him up to her chest in a final embrace, her heart racing five beats for every one of his. She kissed the crown of his head. He clutched at her furiously as she drew away and he fell back to the cold, hard ground.

"Put him to sleep, Anders."

"Hawke, I..."

"I said. Put. Him. To. Sleep. Do not make me repeat myself."

Fenris struggled with everything left in him against the arms that held him down. Isabela and Varric, he realized. "Varric, stop her! You have to stop her! Isabela! You can't let her do this! Aveline! Where's Aveline? Aveline, you are my friend, don't let her! Donnic! Bethany, she's your sister! How can you let your sister do such a thing?! Laz?! Britta! Anyone! Doesn't Hawke have a single true friend in this world?! Don't I?! Please! Damn you! Damn the lot of you! Void take you all!"

Anders knelt at his side, looking more conflicted than Fenris had ever seen him before. Fenris turned to him, gasping. The air in his lungs felt like fire. "I have no affection for you, mage. You may no longer be an abomination, but if you let her do this, you are no better than any demon! If you care for her the way you say you do, you will kill me now. You know in your black little heart that it's the right thing to do!"

He seemed to wrestle with his thoughts and glanced up at Hawke, his fists clenching.

"Do it." she said.

"Don't you dare!"

"I...I can't. I'm sorry. This is what she wants." Anders said. "I would do the same thing for her."

"This isn't right!"

"It isn't about what's right. It's about having a choice. You should know something about that." the mage said quietly. "We both know something about that."

"And what of my choice?! Is that meaningless?!"

"I'm sorry."

Anders raised his hands and the scent of lavender washed over Fenris. His eyes felt heavy, but he fought against it. He could not sleep. He needed to stop Hawke somehow. He needed to reason with her. The gauze and gossamer of the Fade kissed his aching body, beckoning him through the Veil. "Hawke..." he yawned. "My Hawke..."

"Sleep, Fenris." she said. "May you have sweet dreams. I'm sorry, but I will not be there when you wake. I love you."

There was quiet for awhile and he thought he inadvertently drifted off, but then he felt a splash of warm liquid across his cheek that tasted of copper and he heard a scream.

"No! No! Not Hawke! Nnn..." and then he nodded.


	36. Ghosts in the Slipstream

**"Ghosts in the Slipstream" song: Virgin - Perfume Tree watch?v=DmgOfZAdHiY**

**Fenris**

He woke at the foot of the steps in the Kirkwall alienage ghetto with a dull ache in his head and his blade missing. He'd always gotten an eerie feeling in the Lowtown ghetto, which was strange because it also held fond memories for him. Well, maybe not fond, but certainly momentous.

He sat on the balls of his feet and raked back his hair. His eyes were sensitive to the late afternoon sunlight peeking through the boughs of the vhenedhal. How long did he sleep? And why was he here, of all places? The obvious answer was that he drank himself into a stupor at the Hanged Man and somehow found his way to this place. Hawke was certain to be furious with him.

He rose to his feet and spotted movement in the corner of his eye, the sun glinting off steel and a wash of red fabric. His first instinct was to follow.

He rounded the corner that led out of the cul de sac, and spotted a familiar cropped black mane of hair, pushing it's way through a slow-moving crowd. He'd know that hair anywhere.

But for some reason, or perhaps no good reason at all, the streets were flooded with people, all in no hurry to move. He hadn't seen Lowtown so heavily trafficked since the Qunari assault, and even then it was never such a squeeze. People have a tendency to disperse when they see a horde of ox-men approaching or a woman wielding an oversized battle-axe.

_Where is my sword?_

If he was forceful enough and if he shouted loud enough, the wall of people would - with great reluctance - part before him.

There was a good margin between he and Hawke, assuming it really was her, but he could still pick her out from the others. He called out to her, but she either could not hear him or else ignored him. She turned another corner and he lost sight of her completely.

He gave chase and broke through the throng, the cluster of people ebbing away in dismay. His feet beat savagely against the ground, carefully dodging elbows and shoulders until he saw her again.

The gentle sway of her hips, the swing of her arms at her sides, the tinkle of chain with each footfall confirmed his suspicions. It was Hawke, and it was unmistakable. She shuffled up the steps to Hightown, completely unaware that she was being followed.

"Hawke!"

She stopped in her tracks for just a second, inclining her ear in his direction, but she didn't turn. When he crossed over to her, she ran.

Fenris pursued her without a second of hesitation. He did not have the luxury of time to contemplate the absurdity of Hawke running from him. Perhaps she thought it was a game. It was not such a stretch for him to imagine, especially if she was in one of her impish moods. Though it wasn't exactly the appropriate time for a game of tag, Hawke had a knack for ignoring those kinds of things, especially if it meant getting under his skin.

However, though Hawke did possess above average speed and stamina, it was nowhere near on par with his own. He would catch up eventually, either by gaining on her or tiring her out.

"Hawke!" he blared. "Stop!"

He thought he heard the faintest of laughs, quiet and ghostly, like the sound of wind over the lip of a bottle. A chill ran up his spine. _Hawke, what's wrong with you?_

Through the Hightown market and into the square, he pursued her. She almost lost her footing once or twice and Fenris thought for sure that if she tripped once more he'd have her.

And that's when he noticed the trail behind her. She left a black-red path of blood in her wake.

"HAWKE! You're wounded!" he screamed.

If this started as a game, it was one no longer. He hunted her like a beast in a race against death. If he was any judge, she was losing blood much too quickly for it to be any normal injury. If she continued like this, she would soon pass out and it was anyone's guess if he could get her to Anders on time. It might even be too late. He could only hope that the mage was still home.

Then she disappeared behind the door to her estate, a lake of blood seeping out of the building and pooling at his feet.

He swung the door open, not even bothering to catch his breath. He observed her hobbling into her room at the top of the stairs and followed with urgency.

But when he stepped through the threshold, she was not there. There was a strange phantasm in her place.

"Where is she?" Fenris asked, in no mood for this.

"Elsewhere."

"Who are you? What are you doing in her...in _our_ home?"

"We have met. I am Justice."

"Get out, demon!"

"I am a demon no longer. You have released me from my prison."

He furrowed his brow, trying to recollect doing anything of the sort. He could recall bits and pieces, but nothing clear, nothing concrete. "Why are you here?"

"You may not be aware, but you are dreaming. You exorcised me from Anders, but something must have gone wrong. I am bound to this part of the Fade now."

It all came back to him in a surge of revelation. Socinus, Hawke in her prison cell, the battle, the strange weapon of the magisters. He did not yet remember why he was in the Fade, though. He couldn't remember leaving the camp.

"You mean to tell me that of all the places in the Fade you are bound to Hawke's estate? What are the chances of that happening?"

The spirit took a few steps toward the desk in the corner of the room. The desk where he'd seen Hawke cut letters into parchment hundreds of times, each stroke of her pen as sure and long as the sweeps of her axe in battle, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth in concentration. Her penmanship was bold and leggy and utterly Hawke. It was a marvel to behold, like her very own brand of magic. He had no such confidence with the quill, being new at the art, himself, but he did enjoy watching her write and he even liked peeking over her shoulder at her craft when he thought he could get away with it.

"This is your part of the Fade." the spirit sighed.

Fenris choked, or it felt like choking. He stumbled backward to brace himself against a wall. The same wall that he and Hawke made love against one night when they were still new to each other, when he was too eager to make it to the bed. She smelled of the Wounded Coast that night, of salt and sea and open air and she rocked into his hips like waves cresting upon the shore.

"How?" it was all he could force through his lips.

"I do not know. Perhaps the lyrium in your skin interfered with the ritual somehow."

He raised his fingers to his forehead and paced along the length of the room. "So I am _possessed_? I am an _abomination_?"

The spirit did something that looked half laugh and half sigh. "No. I am not bound to you like I was to Anders. I am bound to your markings. To your part of the Fade."

"How is that different? How is that any better?"

He willed his legs to stop shaking, his fists to stop clenching, but they seemed to have a mind of their own. He sat on the edge of the bed. The same bed where he would practice reading to Hawke on rainy days while she lazily traced his exposed markings. Every couple of pages she would stop him and steal a sweet kiss from his lips and he would be helpless to do anything but smile. Hawke always possessed that skill, long before anything ever came of the furtive glances and heavy-handed attempts at flirtation. His smile belonged to her and he was always hesitant to give it to anyone else, even if they earned it.

"Anders and I shared a body and mind. I saw through his eyes. Over time, it became difficult to tell his thoughts from my own, and vice versa. You still have your autonomy, and I have mine. Although, during an experiment I found that I can grant you some of my power if I so choose."

"An experiment?!" he snapped, disgusted. "Do not talk about me like I am some rat to dose and examine!"

"I meant no harm, elf. My power served you well, did it not?"

Fenris did not answer. He had too many questions of his own. "What do you mean?"

"I loaned you some of my strength during the final fight. I did not know what would happen to me if you died."

To say this was troubling would be quite the understatement. Fenris wanted nothing to do with spirits or magic. It was bad enough that his markings gave him a permanent connection to the Fade. Now they served to bind him to this _thing_, all so that Anders could have his freedom and "sanity."

"Are you going to control me like you did with Anders? Like some puppet on a string?"

"I cannot. Not that I wish to. Being outside of Anders has given me some clarity or, perhaps, it is your lyrium. I feel calm here. I no longer have such desires."

"_Fastevas_!" Fenris spat, crumpling the sheets in his fist. "This is what I get for abetting the mage! Now I am no better than he is! Just another vessel for the devils of the Fade!"

"This is not what I would have chosen either."

"Isn't it?!" Fenris turned to the spirit. "You said yourself that you were reluctant to leave your host! That you feel no kinship with your demonic brethren! I hope you didn't think to find a kindred soul in me! If so, you were sorely mistaken!"

"That was before. My judgment was clouded with Anders' thoughts and feelings. It is different now."

"So you keep saying." Fenris growled.

"Regardless, perhaps this way I can better fulfill my purpose."

"I wouldn't count on it. I am not about to lend my life to some ideology. The mage did, and look at what good came of it. No, I simply want to leave this place and find Hawke. I am certain she will not be pleased to hear this news when I wake."

_I'm sorry, but I will not be here when you wake._

The memory knocked the air from his lungs. His mouth went dry.

"You said I am dreaming. Only asleep."

The spirit turned to him, as though aware of Fenris' recollection, as if to offer comfort.

"Yes."

"No." he said aloud. "No, it can't be."

He wanted to believe it was a dream, that it was just a trick of the Fade, but he knew it was real. He tasted her blood with his own tongue, heard her scream, saw the fierce determination in her eyes.

"I am sorry." the spirit said, as though that were any consolation, as though Fenris asked him how he felt about it.

"No! It isn't true! Hawke loves me! She would never...she would not!"

It was a lie he told himself and no one was convinced. His knees gave way beneath him and he fell face first to the ground, ripping at his hair, shaking his head violently in opposition.

"NO! She can't!"

He struck the floor with his fists. The same floor where Hawke wriggled under him, red in the face as he tickled her into submission. He would not have done so, except that she repeatedly insisted she was not, under any circumstance ticklish and he knew that to be a brazen lie. Hawke left her mark on him that day. She dug her teeth deep into the meat of his forearm to get away and he still carried that scar; a little more proudly than some of the others he'd accrued over the years, though his gauntlets concealed it. That little bout of horseplay culminated - like so many of their leisurely activities - in passionate sex, right there on the floor and they both discovered to their delight that teeth and tickles could also be very nice sometimes.

That was not what Fenris wanted to think about. If anything, all these memories could only be bittersweet now. He would never hear her laughter, never make love to her, never read to her or smile at her, never kiss her again.

He could have done all manner of things right then. He could have broken something. He could have throttled the spirit. He could have wept. Instead, he bayed at the top of his lungs, long and low for every creature and wisp of the Fade to hear. Perhaps in some remote place, probably in a cabin in an imaginary Lothering or in a pretend tavern in Seere, Hawke would hear him and know that he loved her still, despite everything. Perhaps she would hear it and come to him and they could at least live in the land of the dead and dreaming together.

Fenris did something he'd never done before. He prayed to a Maker he wasn't even sure he believed in. He prayed that he would not wake up.

**::nervous laugh:: You know I love you guys, right? ::back away slowly::**


	37. Warrior or Whelp

**This chapter is dedicated to my cowriter for Love is a Farm in Ferelden and partner in crime, JenniferHawke. Can't believe this dedication has escaped me for so long. She and I have become close through fanfiction, and even though we live in different countries, I still call her my friend. She is also a talented writer, so please check her stuff out. **

**Fenris**

His eyes flicked open and he was greeted with a gentle bath of sunlight on his bare chest. His muscles ached, but it was no worse than normal. He looked down at his bare arms, at the lyrium carved into his skin and they were just as they always were. White.

He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and taking in his surroundings. He'd spent enough time here in the past few years that he had no trouble figuring out where he was. The swaying of the "ground" beneath his feet as he stood confirmed it. He was on Isabela's ship.

There was a tray with hardtack and salt beef and a glass of water. Evidently they didn't have enough time to stock up on supplies before leaving Qarinas. Hopefully, they weren't going too far. He was sick of this type of food. He'd lived most of his life on porridge and water.

He pulled on his jerkin and looked back at the bed, noting for the first time that Hawke was not there. Of course, that's when he remembered why she was not there.

_I prayed I would not wake._

He did not feel like mourning, not yet. No, the first and most driving urge he had was to kill and, for whatever reason, that urge was directed entirely at Anders.

He could expect so much from Merrill. She was a blood mage and a stupid one, at that. What he could not excuse, what he could not overlook, was how Anders could agree to let Hawke sacrifice herself. He knew how dangerous blood magic was. He claimed to love her, professed it at every chance he got. He could have stopped her, but instead he helped her, and rendered the only person who cared for her well-being completely useless.

He pushed open the door to his cabin with a crash and marched across the deck.

"Oh good, you're awake." Isabela greeted him. "I thought you were going to sleep through the whole trip."

"Where is the mage?"

"What? No 'good morning, Isabela'? No 'glad you're still alive'?"

"Where is the mage?" he said again. He did not forget her part in this, either. As far as he was concerned, they were all to blame for Hawke's tragic end.

"I assume by that scowl you mean Anders. He's in sick bay. Probably enjoying his newfound sanity, if you can really call it that. Why? What do you want with him?"

Fenris did not answer, he veered off to the left and made his way to sick bay, kicking down the door.

Anders started at the sudden intrusion, dropping his book from his lap. "What in the Maker's name? Oh, it's you." he sighed.

Fenris took a tray of vials and threw it across the room at the mage, sending glass shattering everywhere, Tevinter swears spilling from his lips.

"What the...what's your blighted malfunction?!"

Fenris barreled towards him, taking no notice at the glass underfoot. He fisted up the front of the Anders' shirt and brought him to eye-level. "Normally, this would be the part where I'd reach into your scrawny chest and crush your still-beating heart in my fist, but I want to make you suffer instead."

"Wh-"

He struck the man upside his chin with all his strength, and reveled in the satisfaction it brought him, grinning cruelly. "I've wanted to do that for such a long time."

Fenris threw Anders to the floor, watching him tumble over a stool and spill a glass of water. He bent over him and delivered another crippling blow to his jaw and then his throat. The mage choked and gasped for air as his windpipe contracted at the sudden impact. "What...?"

"You killed her!" Fenris said, as he lifted Anders by his shirt and bashed his head on the floor. The mage coughed and sprayed a fine mist of blood over Fenris' face.

"N-no!"

"Oh, but you did! You may not have wielded the blade that cut her wrists, but you killed her just as surely as that witch did! You are all to blame!"

He rained fury on Anders' face. Clobbered him, holding back nothing. He would have continued until the mage was dead, until his body could no longer be identified because his face was a bloody, mangled pulp, or until Fenris' passed out from exertion. The only thing that stopped him was physical force. A pair of arms hooked his elbows behind his back, restraining him. Still, he tried to kick, he struggled, he even tried to lash out at whoever was holding him back.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Aveline shouted, directly into his ear.

"You know exactly what this is about!" he yelled back, trying to worm his way free of her. "I'll get to you later!"

Aveline pushed him to floor, slamming his face into the wood and using all her weight to pacify him. "Don't you threaten me, Fenris! It won't go well for you. I promise you that!"

"You're all a bunch of murderers and traitors! How could you let Hawke do such a thing?! I thought you were my friends!"

She stiffened over him. "Is that what this is about?!"

"Of course it is!"

"Then you can just stop this foolishness right now because Hawke is alive, you idiot!"

He ceased his struggling at this. "What?"

Aveline sighed and dismounted him, pressing her boot into his back for good measure and dusting the grit and glass off her body. "She's alive, Fenris."

Tears pushed at the back of his eyes. "Can it be true? But...but how?" He sat forward and stared at his feet, now weeping blood.

"You'll want to hear that from her, after you're done bleeding everywhere, that is. Great job, beating our healer within an inch of his life, by the way. Brilliant idea, that."

"That was a long time coming."

"I'll get Bethany." Aveline said. "Don't you dare move from that spot or I swear I'll make you taste the floorboards again. Next time, I won't be so gentle."

_Alive._ He swelled. Did he dare hope? If he did and it turned out to be a lie, he would be crushed, but he wanted so desperately for it to be true. He decided that Aveline really had no good reason to lie and allowed himself to believe it, no matter how far-fetched it seemed.

"There he is." Aveline said, Bethany in tow.

"You weren't joking." Bethany laughed, surveying the scene.

"Is Hawke truly still alive?"

"Do you really think I would lie about that?" Aveline asked, indignantly.

"It's true." Bethany said, setting a pillow in front of him and kneeling. "Maker, you really did a number on him." she said, peeking at Anders who was unconscious. She carefully picked some splintered glass from the soles of his feet and then began projecting healing magic into them until his cuts closed up. It was a tediously slow process, especially since all he wanted to do was see Hawke for himself. Anders could have done it more expediently and with better results, but even if he was awake, he'd probably object to doing so after what happened.

He tried to get up after she was done, but Aveline pushed him back on his ass. "Your face is a bloody mess, Fenris."

He groaned and Bethany began healing his cheek where Aveline pushed him into the floor. That took even longer than his feet "for aesthetic purposes." Bethany said, as though he cared about a few superficial cuts. Hawke might appreciate it, but he couldn't care less. At present all he wanted was to prove to himself that she was indeed alive.

"There." she said, finally. "Guess I'll work on Anders now."

"Can I go?"

"You may." Aveline said. "Last I saw Hawke she was down in the hold with Tallis and Kallian. Play nice."

He ignored the rib and pushed his way past her, racing down the deck, down the ladder, into the hold.

He espied her from a distance, leaning over a painted leather map with Tallis making bunny-ears behind her head. She was focused so intently on her work that she didn't notice his approach. Kallian was the first one to spot him and nodded, taking her leave with a wink. Tallis followed her soon after.

"If this is where they're coming from..." she said, her voice trailing off while she tapped a spot on the map. She didn't seem to be speaking to anyone in particular. "And if the templars will come from this way..."

Fenris stood behind her and smiled as he watched her work out the logic in her mind. "No, no. That won't work."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because the templars might take too long. It's too unpredictable. There are just too many variables."

"Ah."

"Oh, sod it! Leave the posturing to the Qunari. I'm no strategist."

"You could have fooled me."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better, Fenris." she sighed. Then her brain began ticking and she must have realized what she just said, because she gasped and whipped around to face him. "Fenris!"

"In the flesh." he said in a husky tone and pushed her back onto her table, stealing her lips in a searing kiss.

He wound his arms around her waist and her fingers found purchase in his hair. Their tongues warred for dominance in each other's mouths and Hawke employed a completely different type of strategy for that kind of battle. Her ankles hooked around each other behind him, pulling him deeper into her embrace, until he could feel her heat emanating from her center through her soft clothes, through his leathers. When she pulled away to press desperate kisses into his eyelids and cheeks, he wanted nothing more than to take her right then and there.

"Fenris, I'm so sorry." she whispered in his ear.

He staggered backwards, out of her arms as though she struck him, as though her words were a blow to his gut. How could he forget her part in all of this? He had inhabited a special hell designed just for him, and Hawke lit more than her fair share of fires in it.

"Hawke, what happened?" he asked. "Why are we both alive?"

She looked down at her feet. "Fenris, your sister made the sacrifice before I could get the chance."

"Varania?"

She nodded solemnly. "She wanted me to tell you that she was sorry for what she did. She loved you."

He could not truly mourn her loss. For Fenris, the only fondness he ever really had for Varania was the idea of having a sister and she'd failed miserably at living up to even his meager expectations. Yet, here was Hawke, here was the woman he loved so much it hurt sometimes. Varania's sacrifice was certainly not in vain. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he certainly had no animosity toward the woman at the moment. Mostly he just had questions.

"But I heard you scream."

"I was in shock." she said. "By right, it was my sacrifice to make. I was the one who should have died."

His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed. This all sounded too familiar, a wound that wasn't yet closed. He willed away those thoughts. At least, Hawke was alive. At least, he was alive to love her. "Where are we going?"

"We're headed to Seheron. We're going to appeal to the Arishok to help us fight against the Senate. It is the least I can do."

His stomach knotted, more salt in the wound. "Haven't you had enough of war, Hawke?"

"Perhaps I can find some kind of atonement for..."

"Stop." he said. He felt sick. He couldn't ignore it anymore.

"I know you don't understand, but..."

"I understand, but I refuse to accept it. Your 'plenary indulgence' almost cost you your life. It is only by some freak accident that it didn't. Haven't you learned anything?"

"Fenris, I have a responsibility..."

"Don't." he said stepping away from her, shuddering from the sudden cold. How a matter of two feet could feel like miles divided them, he couldn't say.

How long did he wait for her? How many times did he watch her tear herself apart over things that were never her fault? How much more of this would he have to endure before she could live her life again? He felt like he was back on Sundermount, watching her kick rocks while the world fell apart around her.

Maybe Hawke never made it out of Kirkwall the day the Chantry exploded. Maybe she was strewn in the rubble and ash. Maybe this was all that was left.

He couldn't. He couldn't go on with her like this. He couldn't pretend that everything was alright when it most assuredly wasn't. It wasn't fair to her and it wasn't fair to him.

He took a deep breath.

"I can't do this, Hawke."

"Can't do what?" she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"This." he said, pulling away. "Can't you see that your endless quest for penance has brought us all nothing but ruin? It's a vicious, never-ending cycle of pain and self-loathing. When are you going to learn that you aren't responsible for every bad thing that has ever happened? When are you going to see that you are sacrificing the future to rectify the past? I'm standing alive before you. You should be overjoyed, instead you are beating yourself up over something you had no control over."

"What do you want me to do, Fenris? The war is already started. I can't just leave those half-starved slaves and refugees to fend for themselves!"

"You of all people should know I have no issue with killing magisters, but if you're going to war with the Imperium, do it for the right reasons."

"So you're just going to let me go off to battle alone?" she asked. "You're just going to sit by the sidelines and watch?"

"If battle is what you intend to do, I will fight with you. You know that."

"Then when you said you 'can't do this' what did you mean?" she sniffed. "Did you mean...you meant us, didn't you?"

"I'm sorry, Hawke." he gave a broken sigh, and it felt like death. "I can't watch you lose yourself to your ideals. I am starting to believe that there is no room for me in your heart with all these ghosts you harbor."

"Fenris, I don't want to lose you."

His heart shattered. Didn't she understand? Couldn't she see how destructive this path was? He was infinitely patient and understanding of her, but she could not look past her broken past and it was agony for him.

"Then give up this pointless crusade against yourself and have me."

"And what happened to 'I am yours'?! Was that all a lie?!"

"I said that to another woman. You are not yourself these days."

"This is who I am!"

And this made him angry, because he knew it wasn't true. "This is not who you are!" he growled, pushing her against the wall. "You are not the woman I fell in love with. The woman I fell in love with was strong and kind and she did things because they were the right thing to do. She made me believe in ridiculous notions like altruism and equality and true love, and she had nothing to prove to anyone, least of all to herself!"

"I'm still the same person, Fenris! I still believe in those things!" she sobbed.

"You are not the same person! You are obsessed with your past! You are willing to put the people you love in jeopardy to right wrongs that were never your burden to carry! Hawke would never do those things! Either she is dead, she is changed or she is missing, but don't you dare claim to be her!"

"I still love you!"

"Not enough to listen to me when I tell you to leave well alone, ah?! Did I not warn you that this little adventure would bring you nothing but heartache?!"

"If we hadn't gone to Tevinter, the world would have ended!"

"And you would have found new and inventive ways to blame yourself for it, I imagine! Can you snivel in the Fade, I wonder?! Are you a warrior or a whelp, Hawke?! I ask because I don't know if I am meant to kiss you or swaddle you anymore!"

She punched him in the jaw, put all her weight into it. Fenris saw stars for a few seconds, and then he saw double for a few more. Worse, it was the hand she wore her ring on, and he was certain it left an imprint.

As if she read his mind she ripped the ring off her finger and shoved it at his chest. "Since I'm not the woman you love, I suppose you'll want this back!"

He lifted his fingers to gingerly touch the tender spot on his chin and glared down at her, nostrils flaring wide, fist clenching. He pushed her hands away from him. "Keep it. Perhaps it will serve as a reminder of what's at stake. My offer still stands, for the woman who is worthy of it."

He stalked away, but before he could get halfway up the ladder she called out to him. "You promised me a future with you at my side."

"When there is a future for both of us, I will be there for you to reclaim. Don't abandon me for your guilt, Hawke. We are worth more than that."


	38. Happy

**This chapter is dedicated to Glysmari, who not only took the time out of her life to read all of my Fenris stories (a task of Herculean proportions), but review them as she went along as well. You're awesome and you should feel great, so here's a long, happy chapter. **

**"You leave me devastated." song: ****Sigur Rós - Hoppipolla watch?v=qmXMA34CeoQ ********(Couldn't really find the song to perfectly encompass all the happy, but this came pretty close).**

**Lazarus**

Lazarus could think of many stupid things he said in the past. He was smarter than people gave him credit for, but he didn't actually think before he spoke most of the time. That was fine, for the most part. It earned him plenty of laughs back when he was in the Circle, but he often just wished he learned somewhere along the line, how to talk to women and when to just shut up.

This was one of those times.

He wondered what trickster spirit possessed him and subsequently convinced him to ask Isabela of all people, how to please Bethany. If such a demon did exist, it was probably laughing it up in the Fade by now. He was certain he turned at least ninety-eight new and distinct shades of red over the past hour, and he hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise.

"So now we've covered rimjobs..." the pirate beamed, pausing to take a deep breath. Laz used the rare opportunity to cut in.

"Er, am I supposed to cover all of these the first time?"

Isabela laughed riotously at this for several minutes. "That's right, you stallion! You'd better get it right or the clitoris will give chase!" She wiped some wetness out of the corner of her eyes. "Oh, you are precious!"

"Can I just have a primer, then? Explain it like I'm five."

"They don't teach you that in the Circle? You take your pee-pee..."

"You know what I meant! Andraste's holy hamster wheel! Why did I think this was a good idea?"

"Alright, calm down, I'm only teasing you, shmoopy. Bottom line is this; have fun, explore each other, and don't rush into the actual penetration part. It's a journey, not a destination. Neither of you are going to be very good at first, but you'll get the hang of it with practice. And have Sweetness talk to Anders about some pennyroyal tea. Hawke will kill you if you get her baby sister pregnant and I'm not ready to be an auntie, yet."

"That was uncharacteristically helpful of you." he sighed. "Anything else?"

"It takes a brave man to sail the Red Sea, but a hero to drink from it?"

"Red Sea?" He thought about it for a moment and then turned white as a sheet when he gathered her meaning. "Oh, eww! That's sick, Isabela! You're evil, you know!"

"Don't you dare forget it, giggle-bear." she stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

The diminutive knock came in the middle of the day, when he was half asleep. He almost missed it altogether, but his eyes snapped open and he jolted upright, making his way to the door. As he opened it, he saw Bethany retreating in haste.

"Beth?"

She stopped in her tracks and turned back toward him, shuffling under his gaze. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself. Did you want to talk or something?" _Or something. Or something. For the love of the Maker, please let it be 'or something!'_

"Nothing in particular, I just wanted to see how you were."

_What does that mean? Is this a sign? She's speaking common, right? So why do I feel like I need a cipher?! Am I sweating? Can she tell that I'm sweating?_

He motioned for her to come in and took a seat at the desk, watching her settle into the edge of the bed. "So..."

"So..." he nodded. _Brilliant. It's a wonder she can keep her hands off you, Laz._

"Did you hear about Marian and Fenris?" she asked, looking a little sad.

"Yeah, how awful." _Nothing calms the nerves like sadness._

"I can't believe it. They love each other so much, it's hard to think of them apart. Sister is all broken up about it. She won't take any food and she's holed herself up in my cabin with the drapes drawn. I feel terrible for her... and Fenris, too."

"I hope they can work things out." he said. "How are you holding up?"

"Oh, I'm fine." she sighed. "It was a little scary when the magister took me, but everything worked out alright, didn't it? I was very lucky."

"I don't know what I would have done if you were hurt." he said, thinking aloud. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you in the first place."

"I'm fine, Laz."

He smiled. "That bastard came this close to finding his bottom on fire. You have no idea."

"Spider." she pointed lazily.

"Oh Maker! Where?! Kill it, Beth! Kill it!" He jumped on the bed behind her, curled up in a ball and pushed her toward the general area where she was pointing.

"My hero." she laughed.

He peeked up at her from the bedspread and scrunched his brow. "Did you get him?"

"Laz, there was no spider. I was trying to prove a point."

"Ah. Well, good!" he sat up. "But I stand behind what I said. The next person who kidnaps you is going to roast. As long as he isn't a spider, that is."

She giggled and threw her arms around his neck. "You're sweet."

The temperature in the room began to rise again at her touch. "But how do you know, Beth? It's been such a long time since we've kissed. I could have been eating pickles and lemons ever since your daring rescue."

"Pickles and lemons?"

"Mm, could be. Dipped in vinegar, perhaps." He grinned down at her.

"Is this your way of asking me to kiss you? Cute."

"All I'm saying is that you can't just arbitrarily assert that I'm sweet without at least a sample."

"Call it a hunch." she said, capturing his lips with hers.

He pulled her onto the bed with him and laid her down on her back. His fingers weaved through hers and pressed them deep into the mattress. Her lips were plush and silky against his, her skin even softer than he remembered. The essence of orange and vanilla wafted from her splayed hair, she smelled like sunshine and summer and all the things he never truly appreciated until he met her, all the things he'd only ever seen from afar. Her sugar-sweet tongue swept over his bottom lip and he trembled, he surged for her like the sea upon the hull of the ship.

She drew one of her hands free of his grasp and trailed her fingers down his chest and stomach and then gave his thigh a gentle squeeze.

"Bethany." he gasped. Oh, how he'd learned to love her name, its cadence like a sweet little tune to his ear. His heart sprouted wings when he heard it, and took flight when he spoke it. He felt sore inside from where it caught in his chest, but it was a good kind of sore, like the ache after a day of hard but fulfilling labor. "You are devastating."

Her legs twined about his waist and she gave off an all-consuming heat, like a fire deep in her core. He wanted so much to lose himself in it, to burn inside her.

She peeled away her tunic. Laz found himself captive to her moon-colored skin, cradled between two perfectly formed, creamy-white peaks. He'd never seen a pair of breasts this close before, but he was still awestruck at their shapeliness. It seemed almost instinctual to want to suck on one.

But when he realized what sipping at their crests did, when she rocked emphatically into him and tangled her way into his hair and sighed his name like an oath, he wanted nothing more than to worship them. He marvelled at how sensitive these delicate little buds were to his lips and tongue, how they caused his little Beth to arch and wiggle under him.

_Yes._ He decided right then and there. _I definitely like breasts._

"Laz, will you...?"

"Anything. You name it." he said, probably much too fast.

She blushed. "Will you take your shirt off, too?"

That was a reasonable, if unnecessary request. She could have shorn the cloth from his body, for all he cared at the moment. Besides, he did not possess lovely globes of jiggly goodness like she did, nor was he muscular, or tan, or anything to write home about, really. Still, he was not about to deny her after she gave him this wonderful banquet for the eyes. He tore away his shirt and tossed it on the ground, staring down at himself with a simper. "Here it is, in all it's skinny, pasty glory."

She giggled skating her way down his chest with her index finger and then tracing a circle around his navel. "You're an outie." she smiled. "Oh, and I like this." she said, stroking the path of curly hairs that led down into his breeches. She hooked a single sneaky finger in the front of his waistband and tugged the fabric to take a peek.

"Yeah?" he smirked. _Nevermind my inability to grow a substantial beard and my freakish lack of chest-hair, I've got a happy-trail! Good enough for her, good enough for me._

"Mmhmmm." she smiled, leaning forward to nibble at the skin below his belly-button. He could not express how much he liked seeing her face down there. Ever since that morning he found her with her mouth on him, he shamed his poor member to that image. Sometimes several times a night. He always felt guilty about it after, seeing as how angry she was with him about his mental misfire, but now he just wanted it to happen again.

She shucked her breeches, displaying an expanse of succulent thigh and a thin piece of white cotton to cover her nethers. The cloth was so thin he could almost make out the hills and valley of lips beneath. He groaned at the sight of it.

But before he could begin exploring, she yanked insistently at one of his pant-legs. He was now convinced that she was certifiably insane. Why would anyone want to see his hairy chicken legs with the knobby-knees and blindingly white thigh skin and his yellowing smalls with the holes in them? _That's just weird -_ he thought. _But if it's stems Beth wants, stems she'll get._

He let his breeches pool at his feet and stepped out of them, kneeling between Bethany's luscious thighs. He bent low to kiss her and she rocked her hips into him. He could feel everything through the spare fabric veil, every alcove and pillow, even the heat and dampness of her essence. His cock leapt and strained against his own smalls. His hands clutched one of her breasts and massaged the nipple between two fingers. He could feel himself going mad by the second.

"Laz, I want to please you." she purred.

_Yep, crazy._ He thought. _Goodbye, kidneys. You've served me well, but you have a higher calling, now._

"Well, I don't know. It's such a tough call." he grinned into her throat.

"Please?" she peered up at him with something like sincerity. _Did she think I was being serious?_

"I suppose." he said. "Since you asked so nicely, and all."

He laid back on his elbows and watched her leave a highway of kisses down his chest and stomach, taking an excruciating moment or two at his "Golden City staircase." _She really does enjoy that, doesn't she?_ _She has questionable taste, but I'd be a fool to complain about it._

Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore she stripped away his smalls and smiled, swiping her tongue along his member from base to tip. She popped him in her mouth, sucking her way down as far as she could without choking.

_She's too good. I'm having difficulty suspending my disbelief in her virginity._

He began to feel needlessly possessive, and caught a grip of her hair. "Bethany, where did you learn this?" he asked, half in awe of her, and half-worried she was lying about her inexperience.

"Dirty books, mostly." she smiled shyly. "Also, look at it. It's just begging to be sucked on, isn't it?"

He laughed deep in his throat as he watched himself disappear behind her lips again. "I'll take your word on it, darling." Then after some thought. "Can you...? Oh, nevermind me."

"Please tell me!" she said.

He combed a stray hair from her eyes. "Well, could you try looking up at me while you do it? I er...ah, yeah, that's lovely." he moaned, forcing himself not to buck into her face with wild abandon. "Beth, you are just too pretty."

She winked at him. _She winked at me! That cheeky little minx winked at me! Oh my Maker, it will be a miracle if both of us manage to survive this._

"Beth, get up." he said. She looked hurt and confused for a second but complied, and he slid her smalls down her thighs, gazing at the beautiful little triangle of dark hair between her legs. She stood and kicked the cotton undergarments away from her. She took a tentative, shy step toward him, as though she were ashamed of it, as though she was afraid he'd send her away. "I want to see."

She frowned. "Laz, I'm scared."

He moved forward to drag his thumb across the swell of her lips. "I would never hurt you."

"I know." she said, worrying at her nails. "But what if you don't like it? No one's ever seen me down there before. What if something's wrong with it?"

He chuckled at her and she glared. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're mine. That alone makes you better than any other girl I've met. Please, let me look, let me touch. I promise I'll be gentle."

She laid back on the pillow and stared at her knees, still pressed firmly together.

"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. We can take it slow. I just..."

Her legs parted before him revealing soft, full lips and a blossom of delicate pink folds. It looked so very mystical and intricate. Her complicated perfume drifted up toward his nose, she smelled of the ocean and earth and forest, of dark, enchanted places full of mystery and secrets waiting to be unlocked.

"Oh, Bethany." he cocked his head to the side to admire the lushness of her, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead as he drank in her wondrous design. There was not much else he could think to say. It all fell short of what he felt. "Oh, Bethany."

Did he really want to go ransacking there, like some bungling brute? He would probably only taint this magical place with his presence. Is that really what he wanted?

Yes, it really was.

"You don't like it, do you? It's ugly!" her lip trembled and she snapped her knees back together. "I knew this was a bad idea!"

"It's perfect."

He snaked a finger through the gap in her thighs and teased at her drenched little slit, watching her eyes soften and glaze over with desire. Little by little, her legs separated again. "Laz, that feels..." her eyes rolled back and she never quite finished that sentence.

_Oh my, I rather like that._

"Where should I touch you?" he asked, realizing that Isabela's lecture did not cover anything so basic as this. He did know how to tie an assortment of knots, and how to choose a good safeword, but nothing actually practical for a beginner.

"Higher." she said. "Higher. Too far. Yes."

"Right here?" he stroked the bud under it's elegant little cowl.

"Yes." she smiled sweetly at him.

He came back to rest on the pillow beside her, to kiss her lips and neck and ears and watch her react to his touch. To his delight and amazement, she reached over and began stroking him too. They clasped at the lips and tangled at the elbows and knees. Perhaps some of it was clumsy or silly-looking, but neither of them were bothered, and both of them seemed to be enjoying themselves and each other.

"Laz." Bethany gasped. "I don't want to wait anymore."

"Well, I'm trying here, darling. Give me some credit, this is my first time doing this."

She laughed. "No, I mean, I'm ready for you. I'm ready to be with you now."

"Oh." he said, ceasing his fondling. _Wow, and you were doing so well, too._

"Don't you want me?"

"Of course!" he said, much too loudly. "More than anything. I'm just nervous, I guess. I don't want you to be disappointed."

She rolled on top of him and they locked lips for a brief moment. "Laz, you're mine. That alone makes you better than any man I've met."

He chuckled, twirling one of her curls around his finger. "Using my words against me, I see. Well, worse case scenario, you'll laugh at me. Everyone else already does that, so I guess I can live with the consequences."

"I'm not going to laugh at you."

"Good! I'd be so angry with you if you did." he pushed her underneath him, and buried his lips in the crook of her neck. "I really want this to be right for you. Perhaps if I were more experienced..."

"Laz, I want you. I want this. I want to share all my firsts with you, and I want to learn with you. This is right."

"You're amazing." he said, and his lips came crashing onto hers. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd ever meet a woman as warm and gentle as Bethany, and if he did, he certainly never imagined she'd feel the same way about him.

He teased his tongue past her lips and tilted her to deepen the kiss. She rolled her hips into his, and he couldn't wait any longer. He needed her.

He reached down and took himself in hand, poising himself at her entrance. and rocked gently against her. _Is she supposed to be this small? How am I supposed to fit?_

She gasped. "Laz, Laz! Wrong hole."

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that." he laughed nervously.

He tried again. "Laz, that's my thigh."

_Well, this is going swimmingly._

"Ah." he sighed. "Maybe you want to...?"

"Alright." she smiled, grasping him. She positioned him and nodded. "Gently, Laz."

"Right. Gentle." he said, taking a deep breath. "I can do that."

At first, there was some resistance, he wasn't sure if she was actually going to give way to him. He didn't want to ram down her maidenhead like a bronto through a cage. He didn't want to hurt her.

He was patient and she was eager and eventually she made room for him. If she felt any pain as he broke through the thin membrane, she said nothing.

He slid home. "Oh sweet merciful Maker, forgive your child." he whispered. It was unlike anything he could have imagined. Her arms knotted around him and she gazed into his eyes under heavy-lids and through overfull pupils. Just from that one dip he was thoroughly certain that his little Bethany was made of lyrium and rainbows and marshmallows, of all the same stuff joy and dreams were made of.

He rose again and sank into her, relishing, slow and languorous. "Laz, that's so good." He sucked a whistling breath through his teeth as he rocked into her again. "You feel so good."

"Shh." he laughed. "It's hard enough to stay in control without you stroking my ego too, Beth."

But it was no use, he was over excited and she felt rapturously good, he spilled inside her after not much longer.

"S-sorry!" he said.

"Was it good?" she asked.

"Perhaps too good." he sighed kissing her on the cheek. "Sorry, Beth. I knew I'd end up disappointing you."

"I'm not disappointed. I'm just glad I could make you feel nice. I was worried I wasn't doing it right."

"You were magnificent." he said. "Maybe we can try again, when he wakes up."

* * *

The second time was a little better. The third time was not bad at all, if Bethany's reactions were any indication. They took a break after that, hoping to rehydrate and recuperate for at least one more go, a grand finale, so to speak.

Laz was determined to get her off with him inside her. He stroked her to completion after the second time because she was "in agony," and that was rewarding enough, but there was something about the idea of her culminating with him. It was such an attractive thought.

By the fourth time, they thought they had it down to an art. Bethany was incredibly sensitive from all the touching and wetness, and Laz spent himself enough times that he wasn't about to pop off at every feather-light touch.

He plunged into her and watched her eyes shut reflexively. She nestled herself in the crook of his neck and whimpered, digging her nails into the flesh on his back. "Laz." she whispered. He trapped her face in between his hands and gazed down at her with adoration, this magnificent creature. She'd given him so much and asked so little in return. All he wanted was to give her this one thing.

He reached down between them and began teasing at her swollen pearl. "Laz!" she gasped again, another gift- another selfless, wonderful gift and only for him.

For the first time that he could ever remember, he felt like he belonged, like he'd found a home. Her eyes glittered and her pupils were blown so wide they seemed like they could swallow him up inside them and he would never be found. He could not look at them directly.

He crashed into her recklessly, wanting only for her to find her sweet release. They clapped where their skin connected with each other, his fingers picking up speed on her bud. Her breasts bounced and quivered with each thrust and Bethany clutched a fistful of sheets to keep herself stationary. _Or perhaps that's involuntary? I certainly hope that's the case._

"Laz! Laz don't stop!" she called.

And then it was just a matter of willpower to keep himself from climaxing before her, to dull his senses and fill his mind with her, only her. Bethany leaning over an embroidery hoop. Bethany grinning, her hands and lips sticky-sweet with pastry, with sunshine in her hair. Bethany laughing from too much liquor, cinnamon tinged and his for the first time. The first thing he could ever truly call his own.

And now he was in love.

The epiphany came at an inopportune moment. It was unfair. The sound of her blissfully moaning and calling out his name, the sight of her biting her lip and her eyes rolling back, it was just too much.

"Come, Beth!" It was not exactly a request.

As if on cue she keened at the top of her lungs and clenched around him, grasping onto him for dear life. He rained kisses down on her lips and cheeks as he continued to guide her through her drawn-out orgasm with the tips of his fingers. He was certain everyone on the ship could hear them, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. He was in love. Maker help him. He _loved_ Bethany.

A river burst through his middle and surged into her. There was only light, only color, only Bethany in this place between worlds. Fireworks sparked in his eyes and in his heart and his thoughts where she lived, where she ruled with her gentle governance. When that was over, it was still a few moments before he fell as light as a feather and touched the ground again.

She raked her fingers through his hair clumsily and kissed his neck. "That was wonderful." she said.

"I have no idea what I just did. I pray to the Maker that I can repeat it somehow." he laughed, panting a little. He rolled off of her and scooped her into his arms. "Worth the wait?"

"Definitely."

He kissed her forehead, tucking her under his chin. "Good. You should talk to Anders about er...what was it? Pennyroyal?"

She blushed. "I already have. Two days ago."

"Oh really? Well I'm glad to hear one of us came somewhat prepared." he sighed. "Hungry?"

"Starved."

"I'll fetch us something to eat." he grinned, getting up to don his breeches again. "And maybe some grog. I think we've earned it."

"Laz." she smiled.

"Hm?"

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

He finished up his laces and sat down on the bed beside her. "You already know the answer to that."

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you. I think Marian could use some time alone and, to be honest, I just want to be near you."

"The feeling is mutual, darling." he said, pulling his tunic on. _You have no idea._ "I'll be right back with that food."

He stepped out onto the deck and was met with an eruption of cheers. Isabela winked and thrusted her hips at him, Varric clapped him hard on the shoulder.

"You done good, kid." Varric said.

"I'll say!"

"He was like 'come!' And she was like 'ahhhh uhhh ahhh!'" Tallis mimicked to Aveline.

"That's...that's nice, Tallis. Good for them."

"Eh, guess you had to have been there."

"How long have you all been eavesdropping?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Long enough to know you made Hawke's baby sister very, very happy." Anders chuckled, both eyes still black and his jaw swollen from the confrontation a few days earlier. "Way to go."

"Nice. That's not mortifying at all." he said sarcastically. "You know, I was just going to go get some food, but I think I'll hang myself in the galley instead, if that's alright with you guys."

"Laz." Bethany smiled, stepping out onto the deck behind him. "They're laughing with you." She wrapped her arms around him.

_So this is what it feels like to be understood. To be accepted._

"Right. I knew that." he said, claiming her lips for everyone to see. There was another roaring round of applause and cheers. Laz felt nothing but pride and joy and love.


	39. Don't Make Me Beg

**"Don't Make Me Beg" - song: Ambulette - If You Go Away /watch?v=_IGhixrqT1E**

**Hawke**

There were always more tears. When she thought she spent the last of them, when her throat was parched and ragged from crying and screaming into her pillow, when she finally thought they were subsiding and at last she would be able to find sleep again, they would come crashing against her eyes.

Her palms ached. She had nothing wondered how she would find the strength to carry on without him. There were still so many people who needed her, who looked to her for guidance, but she was lost.

The only ones who really understood the gravity of her despair were Varric and Aveline. Perhaps Bethany sympathized, but she was also in her own little world. Hawke wanted to feel happy for her, but she was just so mired by hopelessness. She didn't want to see her sister, not when she still remembered what it was like when she and Fenris first made love.

Aveline made sure she was taking care of herself, that she ate and got out in the sun. Varric brought her grog, which helped a little and he didn't guilt her, which helped a lot. Anyone else who came to visit only left her feeling hollow and alone.

How could she prove to Fenris that her heart was in the right place? Yes, she felt a responsibility towards those around her. Yes, she felt guilt when she couldn't help someone she cared about. She always believed that was the right place. She still believed that.

A knock came at her door. She didn't answer. Everyone on the ship already knew she isolated herself to this cabin. She didn't much care who came and went.

Too much light flooded the room and temporarily blinded her. She closed her eyes and wiped her tears into her pillow.

"Hawke?" Anders' voice called.

She said nothing. His footsteps were so light she thought he left until he knelt down next to her, forcing her to be acutely aware of his presence.

"I came to see how you were doing, love." he said.

She fought back more tears. She didn't want to see him right now. Wasn't he the one who started this all? Why was he still calling her _that_? "No, you heard I was single and you swooped in to claim me." she said. He gave her a hurt expression. "I-I'm sorry, Anders. That was unkind of me. I'm just _hurting._"

"I know." he said softly. "Maybe it was even fair. I won't lie and say that I hadn't thought about it. I think it goes without saying that I'd do anything for you to take me back, but that's not why I'm here. Believe it or not, I do want to see you happy, even if it's with_ him_." He said the last part like it was a curse.

She worried at the red sash on her wrist, refusing to look him in the eye. She didn't want to talk about this with Anders. She changed the subject. "How are you enjoying life without Justice?"

He frowned. "I thought it would be easier. I thought I'd be happier. I feel like I no longer have a place in this world, like I'm just passing time until the calling. I can't make peace with some of the things I've done. I can only hope it will be better with time. I hope that doesn't make me sound ungrateful. I have no delusions. You saved my life once again. I am in your debt, Hawke."

"Fenris saved you, not me."

"Because you asked him to, but let's not argue semantics." he sighed. "How are you sleeping?"

"I'm not."

He nodded. "I thought as much. When you...well, never mind that. Let's just say that I know what you're going through."

"Thanks."

"I thought maybe I could help you with that, actually."

"It would be much appreciated."

"Alright, but I want you to eat something first."

"I'm not hungry." she said. Why was everyone trying to feed her? Some of them were acting like it was months since she and Fenris separated, rather than a couple days. She wasn't about to waste away.

"Please, just eat something. I worry about you so. It will make you feel better."

"What's the point?"

"The point is that there are people on this ship who care about you. I care about you, and as much as it pains me to admit, Fenris cares about you too. It may be his one redeeming quality. He asked me to make sure you got some food and rest."

"He...he did?"

"Yes. It was awkward for everyone involved, I'm sure."

It was hard to believe Fenris would swallow his pride and ask Anders for anything after what happened the other day, but it was even harder to believe that Anders would lie in his favor.

"How is he?"

"We didn't exactly have a heart-to-heart. He said he was worried about you and asked me to make sure you were alright. Well, actually he _commanded_ me, but I didn't argue with him since it was about you. I'd already wanted to come see you. I was just nervous about how you'd react. I guess you could say it was just the excuse I needed."

"How did he look?"

"Heartbroken." he said truthfully. "Honestly, I can't blame him. He's right about the guilt thing. That's one thing we can agree on. It's not who you are. You're stronger than that."

"He told you about that?"

"Of course not, but you know how stuff spreads in this group. You tell Aveline, Aveline tells Isabela, Isabela tells Varric, Varric told me."

_Of course._ The ship was full of gossips. Nothing was a secret for long.

"It's easier said than done, Anders."

"I know. I'm wrestling guilt, myself. But at least in my case I'm actually to blame for what happened. You need to learn how to accept things that are out of your control."

"Do you think he'll take me back?"

Anders set a tray of food in her lap, cutting the meat for her. "I don't like the question." he said. "I don't like the answer either. From what I understand, you know what you have to do."

"So, yes?"

He didn't answer. Instead he set his jaw in a clench and proceeded to try to feed her like an infant, much to her dismay. "Don't fight me, Hawke. You know I'm only trying to help." She sighed and reluctantly chewed some of the meat and swallowed, glaring at him all the while. It was some kind of fish. It wasn't bad, but she resented being treated like a child. "Good girl." he said, adding insult to injury.

She snatched the fork from his hands and finished the meal on her own in relative silence. Anders brushed her hair, which was nice. He said she looked like a ragamuffin, whatever that meant, and tutted under his breath at all the snags.

When he deemed that she ate enough food, he took the tray away from her. She did feel a little better, physically at least.

"I'm going to put you to sleep now." he said. "I'll be back again tomorrow night to do this again. The night after that, if need be...However long it takes."

"You don't need to do that." she said.

"Yes, I do and I don't mind. That doesn't mean I won't relish the night you no longer need me, love. No matter what that means."

"Thank you, Anders."

He smiled. "Close your eyes."

With that, Anders' magic brought her sweet sleep at last.

* * *

In a moment of weakness, when she had too much to drink, she found herself in Fenris' cabin and threw herself to the floor before him.

"What are you doing, Hawke?" he asked. Anders was right. He looked and sounded sad. His voice was quieter, his eyes softer. She knew Fenris well enough to know when he wasn't right.

"I needed to see you." she said through tears.

"You shouldn't have come." he sighed. "This will only make things more difficult for both of us, I fear."

"Please don't turn me away."

He took a few steps toward her. His shadow hovered over her, in more ways than one. He was so close. She could smell his leather and musk and she wanted so much just to drown herself in him, to step into his embrace and his kisses and never go without him again.

"Have you thought on what I said, then?" he asked, breaking through the silence.

She laughed bitterly. "Only every moment of every day. I am no less confused."

He sat on the ground in front of her against the bed, staring at the wall. "What is there to be confused about? I spoke plainly, did I not? All I want is for you to accept that you cannot change the past."

"I know that."

"You know it, but you do not accept it. That is our disconnect. Make it easy on yourself. Offer yourself the same forgiveness you give so easily to others."

"It's not so simple as that."

"It is simple. You could have me tonight if you wanted. Just say the word."

"What's to stop me from lying?"

He snorted. "Are you even capable of such a thing?"

"No." she sniffed.

He stared down at the favor on his wrist, as if remembering. His hair soaked up the glow of the candlelight and played an interesting trick with the color. He shut his eyes tight for a moment and then spoke, drawing her out of her reverie.

"We will be in Seheron soon. You must be prepared. The Arishok will not take you seriously with teary eyes and a running nose."

"Kallian knows him. He respects her. Let her handle it."

"It will not be enough."

"Then let Tallis help her. She's ben-hassrath."

"You will need all the voice you can get. That includes your own, basalit-an."

"I don't know or care anything about the Qun. You talk to him."

"Hawke..."

"I miss you, Fenris." she blurted out.

He looked away. "I miss you, too." he admitted, quietly. "I have missed you for a long time."

"Then, come back."

He gave a heavy sigh and stood, offering his hand to lift her to her feet. "I want to. You have no idea how much I want to."

"Don't make me beg." she cried. Dignity was a thing of the past. It had died when he'd said goodbye.

"I love and respect you too much to do that, Hawke. Perhaps when this is all over, you will see that I was never the one who left."


	40. This Means War

**Fenris**

He never imagined it would take so long for Hawke to come to her senses. It was getting harder with each day, each hour, if he wad honest with himself. Sometimes he wondered if she would ever come back or if she'd come to decide that this was better for both of them in the end.

The nights were the hardest part.

He would look over at the empty, cold field of bed where she by all rights should be and he would clutch the sheets in anguish. One night, it got so bad he made it all the way to her cabin door before he convinced himself that Hawke deserved better than his weakness and turned back.

The others urged him to reconsider. Even Anders - black eyes and all - came to see him after his first visit with her and begged him to take her back for her sake, to just go see her and tell her it would be alright and that he still loved her. The mage was unusually civil during his visit. He bit his tongue when Fenris hurled insults at him, he used the word "please" several times. Fenris wondered at how poor she was if Anders was willing to go to such lengths.

He gave it serious thought and more or less decided that he would see her that night, just for a few moments. Just to see for himself what the others were talking about. Just to make sure she understood why he was doing this and what she needed to do to end the pain for both of them, since Anders said she seemed to believe he no longer wanted her.

Instead, she came to see him and he no longer had to wonder at why everyone was so worried.

He thought that being apart from her was hard, but seeing her in that state was much worse. Standing there with her eyes swollen from tears and her hair matted to her face, he felt himself caving. It would have been so easy to close the gap and cosset her, to tell her to forget everything he said and have her join him in his bed. What he wouldn't give to hold her through the night once again. What he wouldn't do to fill the emptiness in the room with her smile and her laughter and to wake up to kisses and love-making and warmth. It was a struggle to keep himself away. They loved each other. They _needed_ each other. They'd been apart long enough due to one circumstance or another. For anyone else, that may have been enough.

However, he was spoiled by his time with her. He had the highest standards now and he would not accept anything less than Hawke. He knew she wouldn't want someone "settling" for her. Doing that would be failing her and he could not let himself do that, not with a war and so much at stake.

At least, she was not alone. At least, she had Aveline and Varric and even Anders to comfort her and make sure she wasn't withering away. That gave him some consolation. He would rather it were him, but that was not an option. That would not help.

When the nights were too hard, when he thought he would break, he was grateful for the window in his cabin, because it gave him the perfect view of hers. Sometimes he imagined that she was staring back on the other side and that gave him strength, not because he wanted her to hurt, but because he wanted her to care. If she cared maybe she would try and if she tried, it would only be a matter of time before she was in his arms again.

* * *

He could see the island of Seheron rearing in the distance. It's tall emerald treeline and silver sand was unmistakable even if he didn't know their destination.

Most of the island was uncharted by man, wild and virginal. It was too savage to cultivate, and dangerous beasts lurked in the high canopy of trees.

The Fog Warriors knew the way of the wilds, though. They knew to listen for the call of chimps and which ones meant danger. They knew the ape words for "tiger" and "panther." They knew how to travel seamlessly from limb to limb , how to move silently through the trees. That's what made them so deadly, and why they stood their ground against the Qunari and Imperium alike. They were masters of subtlety and strength. They used the island's resources to create vicious poisons that could fell the strongest man with one drop and once they made their mark, that person was as good as dead.

Fenris learned much from the Fog Warriors during his short time in their presence. Their lessons served him well when he was on the run, when stealth and subterfuge was preferable to brute force and certain death.

He wondered what it would have been like if he hadn't obeyed Danarius' order to kill his comrades in arms. Somehow he believed that Hawke would find her way to him either way, but what would she think of the elven savage, leaping from branch to branch with his chest and face painted to match the leaves? Would she have loved him, even so? Would she have become one of them? That was a strange yet arousing thought. Female Fog Warriors were ruthless, barbaric beings, bloodthirsty and feral and beautiful like the jungle itself. It was said that the priestesses could kill someone with sex alone. The rite of passage for joining a clan usually involved laying with one. Only if the initiate survived the night would they be considered worthy to be counted among the tribe and those who did often described it as a religious experience. Fenris, of course, had never undergone such a rite, but if Hawke was involved...

The thought was unwelcome and intrusive at the moment. Neither of them were Fog Warriors and it wasn't fair of him to be thinking of her that way when he couldn't even see her without it being an event.

He spread out on the bed and sighed. Soon they would reach the city and Hawke would need him more than ever. He could not be there for her the way she wanted, the way he wanted, not right now, but he could help her with this. He could lend her his knowledge of the Qun to appeal to the Arishok and if need be, he would protect her with his life, though he did not think it would come to that. And if there was anything left of the woman he loved inside her, she would see his effort and recognize it for what it was. He hoped beyond hope that maybe then she would return to him.

_I am here, Hawke. You just need to know where to look._

* * *

They did not receive a warm welcome when they arrived in the city of Seheron and Fenris was largely unsurprised. The Qunari did not often take kindly to ships full of basra demanding to see their Arishok. Only Tallis had any right to be seen and she had no real authority over the men of the city, only enough to allow her a brief _shanekost_, a parlay of sorts. Just time enough for the Kithshok to read her missive and confirm her identity.

After that, the ship was detained and Tallis had to choose a handful of people to bring with her into the city. The elf was rather more practical in her choices than Fenris imagined she'd be. She decided to take Kallian, Hawke and himself, though he suspected he was only brought along for moral support. Everyone else was to remain on the ship. There would be no bartering or trade, Kithshok warned them. There was nothing the Qunari needed from them. If the Arishok accepted their accord, it was possible that he'd allot them supplies. By the look in Isabela's eyes at this threat, he guessed that they would not last the trip back to the mainland without restocking.

He'd seen the city before but never from behind its stone walls, always from the trees and at night. Even his knowledge of the Qunari and their customs did not fully prepare him for the spareness of the city. The cobblestone residences were not afforded any decoration or even windows, just a simple wooden door and a thatched roof. They were all exactly alike, even down to the number of bricks in the walls. No one smiled or greeted them, but he could feel himself being followed by watchful eyes. He walked a little closer to Hawke than necessary which earned him a longing, questioning glance from her. He did not dignify it with a response, but he was glad she took notice. He hoped she would understand the meaning behind the gesture.

Kithshok led them through the streets for what seemed like hours, his height begetting him longer strides. They had to walk briskly to keep up with him. He did not turn to them once, nor did he say anything, which was just as well for Fenris because he couldn't think of much else than protecting Hawke and keeping up.

It was a long time before he could even see the palace in the distance and the stairs leading up to it were cruel and tedious. Knowing the Qunari, it probably served as some sort of symbolism, the endurance of hardship for the reward of duty, perhaps. It was a commendable lesson, but Fenris found the Qunari's unwavering adherence to their ideologies stifling and limiting in the same way he found the strict adherence of any religion to be. It left little room for actual critical thought or empathy, which were both things Fenris thought the world was severely lacking. Still, he had to admit that ascending the last step felt like a victory of sorts.

The halls of the Arishok were spartan as well, ornamented only by a small window above his stone throne to cast light over the cold empty room. Two men stood vigil at his side, all sinew and plane and unflinching stares. The only thing that animated them at all was the slow rise and fall of their chest as they suspired, and - every now and again - the blink of their red eyes.

The Arishok sat forward as he saw them approach. His eyes regarded Kithshok and then Kallian, showing no real sign of approval. He took a glimpse of Tallis and Hawke, and then Fenris, and nodded almost imperceptibly.

Kithshok bowed his head and stepped off to the side, acknowledging that their business was above his station and jurisdiction.

"_Anaan esaam Qun, Arishok_." Tallis said, and stepped forward to hand him her missive.

He unfolded the parchment, his eyes skating over the page. He sighed. "This missive was not meant for my eyes. I am not Ariqun."

"I am aware." she said. "But, my findings are relevant to you. My duty to the Qun is clear; protect the innocents, protect the faith. I need your help to do so."

"Then you are to follow the chain of command. Know your rank, Tallis."

"I am invoking _Ashaqun_. I am now Ariqun so long as I occupy these walls."

If Arishok was surprised, he did not convey it in his eyes. He merely turned to Kallian in that moment and looked her up and down. "Kadan."

"Hey, Sten." she said.

"I am Sten no longer, if you have not noticed. I did not think to see you again after the Blight. Welcome." he fixed his gaze upon Hawke, making Fenris' jaw clench. "Who are you?"

_Be strong, Hawke. Be very brave._

"I am Hawke. Your predecessor called me basalit-ahn."

"_Maraas toh ebra-shok._ That title is not given away freely. There is only one I know of who still holds such an honor and that is the Champion of Kirkwall."

Hawke said nothing. Fenris was fiercely proud of her.

"And you?" he glanced at Fenris.

"_Atas shokra, anaan esaam Qun._ I am only Hawke's bodyguard, unworthy of your attention." Hawke stiffened at these words and chanced a glance back at him. He looked past her, never taking his eyes off Arishok.

"From the mouths of babes." murmurred Arishok, amused. "Shanedan, Tallis. Well met. Ashaqun is yours, as is my attention."

Tallis paced before the throne. Arishok's eyes followed her in rapt concentration.

"It is as we feared. The Imperium has built a weapon that will destroy the world. Direct intervention is necessary. The sooner, the better."

"Do you have any proof of this claim?"

She reached into a pouch at her side and pulled out another folded up piece of parchment, handing it to Arishok. The faintest of tremors could be seen in her hand if one knew to look for it.

He scanned the paper for a moment and his eyes darted back up to hers. "I see."

"The Senate will march on Qarinas in less than a month. We are expecting templar reinforcements from Val Royeaux, but they will not be enough with the mage-templar conflict still brewing in the mainland. Most of the templars have seceded from the Chantry. We will only have the Divine's elite - that is, if our emissary succeeds in convincing the Divine to intercede on our behalf at all - and they may not come soon enough."

"_Ashkost shokra!_ You come asking for war."

"The Qun demands it." Tallis said.

Arishok stood, cracking his neck and knuckles. "I will consider it."

"There is no time." Tallis countered. "We were able to dismantle the VeilSever weapon, but I have reason to suspect that there are more."

Fenris' lungs seized up in his chest. _More? How can that possibly be? The resources necessary for that one facility alone was staggering. Didn't Socinus mention that red lyrium was rare?_

"There was a map in the laboratory with five facilities marked off, including the one we saw. Either there are more or they are planning on making more. The magister didn't even seem overly concerned about losing the one."

The Qunari pondered this for a moment before he spoke again. "Then they have forced my hand. You will have your war, Tallis, as shall the Imperium. We will sail within the fortnight."

All of them simultaneously sighed in relief. Now it was only a matter of winning and staying alive to see victory.


	41. Red, Red Redemption

**Woohoo E3! Man, does Varric look hot in the DA3 trailer or what? This is going to sound terrible, but Bianca needs to break or something, so my Inquisitor can romance the smooth-talking dwarf with the luscious chest hair. **

**Would like to recommend my buddy JenniferHawke's new story "Royal Retribution." For those of you who do not like my brutal and oft deserved treatment of everyone's favorite blonde mage, it's about FHawke/Anders. It's a sequel to her other story Two's Company, Three's a Crowd, but I think it can stand alone, unlike PI. Give it a read. It'll be fun. :)**

**We are nearing the conclusion. Just two more chapters after this, plus a short epilogue. Then onto book three, which will be suspenseful and epic, I hope. You guys are the best. Fengirls unite!**

**Enjoy!**

**Hawke**

When she reached the ship again and Fenris parted without a word in her direction, she retreated to her cabin to cry. The mask she wore to conceal her weakness throughout the day came off. Anders would be by soon to tut at her, to make her feel useless and punctuate every sentence with the word "love" like an accusation of some perceived abandonment he himself hardly remembered. She didn't care if he saw her like this. There was only one person she cared about right then and he was ignoring her.

He was protective one second, giving her too much false hope and the next he was completely inattentive, crushing her heart in his palm, like so many of his victims. Was this some kind of game to him? How could he be so cruel?

Hours passed while she wallowed. Anders should have come and gone already. She should have been asleep by now. She considered the idea that he was busy. He was the ship's healer, after all. He might be with someone who was legitimately ill or hurting in sick bay or maybe he just forgot. His memory wasn't what it used to be even with Justice gone. Perhaps she should go see him tonight, instead.

_No._ She decided after realizing the distinct possibility that she could pass Fenris on the way. That would only make things worse and she didn't want him to see her crying. It was bad enough that she broke down and went to see him that one night. That ended rather predictably. She didn't have the heart to put either of them through a similar ordeal tonight.

Finally, the knock came and Anders let himself in. He stood at the door for a moment, seemed to struggle with himself and then crossed the room. He pulled up a chair beside the bed and looked down at her with severity in his eyes.

"Crying again." It wasn't a question. "Have you eaten?" He looked over at the tray Bethany brought her upon their return. "No, I can see that you haven't." he sighed.

She shifted under the covers, but did not break her gaze at the ceiling. She couldn't look him in the eye. She was too ashamed.

"You know I can't keep doing this forever." he said. "It's not that I don't want to help, but you aren't exactly making this easy on me."

_Poor you._ She thought. _First sign of difficulty and all the "forever in your debt" nonsense goes out the window. Funny that._

"I come here every night and I feed you. I brush your hair. I watch you fall asleep. Do you know how much I've longed to do these things? I wanted this. Be careful what you wish for, they say. I get to be near you, but I can't kiss you. I get to touch you, but I can't hold you. Then, I leave afterwards and go back to being alone."

_Why are you doing this? I never asked you to come in the first place. I never asked you for anything._

"And you ignore me. You neglect me. You turn me away. It's torture."

_What do you want from me? Am I supposed to forget all you've done in the past because you tucked me in the past week?_

"I understand why you left. I know that's ancient history. But ever since Justice has been gone I can't get it out of my head. I just wonder sometimes if maybe...no." he grew silent.

"What?" she asked.

"Maybe if you hadn't left we wouldn't be in this situation. Maybe I could have kept Clemency. Maybe I would have never..."

Her teeth gritted against one another. _The gall!_ "Never what, Anders?" she spat and clenched her fists. "Never blew up the chantry and left me to clean up your mess? You're trying to pin that on me now?"

"Can't you see? You gentled the demon inside of me! Do you think it's just a coincidence that Vengeance returned after you left? By all means, I should have been there to protect the mage underground. Instead, we went on your little Tevinter safari where you left me for that _thing._"

"You mean the one where you lied to me repeatedly and hired assassins to kidnap yourself? Yes, I remember it well! It's a wonder I didn't keep you around! Don't act like I never gave you a chance, Anders. I tried. I really did. And don't you dare talk about Fenris that way. He saved your life."

He stood from his chair and began pacing the room, waving off her argument. "And you had the resources, the sway in the Circle to exorcise Justice from me back then, but you didn't. You were too soft-hearted."

"Excuse me for not wanting to see you end up dead or Tranquil!" she laughed bitterly. "Besides, I seem to remember you telling me there was another option. Oh wait, you lied about that too. You used me!"

"If you were still mine I never would have found it in me to do it. I had nothing left to live for at that point."

"Yes, I made you lie about the Tevinter potion! I made you do all of it! I should have seen it coming, after all! It's not like you ever told me the truth about anything. You just kept feeding me lie after lie after blighted lie!"

"So you're not going to accept any of the blame for what happened? You had no part in it?" he hissed. "It's all my fault, demon and all? Is that what you're saying?"

"I'm saying you should own up to the crimes you committed! You may not have been yourself, but you did have a part in all of this!"

"And you didn't?!"

"No! I didn't! I did everything I could! It's your fault! Be a man and take some responsibility!" she seethed.

His eyes softened and he looked away. She clasped her hand over her mouth and swore under her breath, taking a step towards him to put a hand on his shoulder. "Anders, I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean..." He turned toward her with tears in his eyes and pulled away with a shuddering sigh.

"Go to him, Hawke."

Her eyes widened in understanding. He slumped into a corner, his shoulders round with defeat.

"Anders..."

"I'm fine." he choked out. "Don't worry about me."

"I didn't mean it!"

"You did, but it was fair."

"You planned this all along, didn't you?" she asked, kneeling beside him to hug him and press a chaste kiss on his forehead. "You did this...for me."

He smiled weakly, his lips quivering. "Be happy, my love. It's all I've ever wanted."

"I can't leave you like this. Fenris can wait. I can wait."

"Don't make it any harder than it needs to be." he said. "Go now, before I embarrass myself."

She brushed a loose hair behind his ear and nodded, moving slowly toward the door. She stopped and looked back at him one more time, his face buried in his knees. "Thank you." she said. "I'll never forget this."

She stepped out onto the deck, into the salt-sea air. A warm breeze scented with leaves and rain and tea lifted the hair off her neck. The moon hung low over the water, painting the ripples with light. She looked down at her hand, at the sash he'd given her to signify his love and the ring on her finger that symbolized her commitment to him. Red. The color of love and passion and blood, all of which played a role in their history together.

She made her way toward his cabin.


	42. Name

**Warning: very NSFW**

**I was extremely nervous about posting this chapter due to the high number of dominant Fenris fans on this site. I wrote the scene, deleted it, rewrote it, got opinions from 3 different people on it, lather, rinse, repeat. I'm finally at the point where I've decided that this is my story, and I want at least one smut scene to go my way and not be completely vanilla. **

**Be forewarned, there is very light bdsm with Hawke playing the dominant role and Fenris playing a very rebellious (but fully consenting) sub. Nothing gruesome or icky happens, but if you think this scenario will squick you, or if you'd rather just skip that part, I've left a series of Xes before and after. Feel free to not read that if it's not your thing, I won't be offended. :) Be gentle, as this is my first time writing something like this. **

**Fenris**

He couldn't take it anymore. Whatever principles he'd been standing on shattered under his feet at the sight of her departing to another cabin. The wrong cabin, alone.

What kind of man broke promises to the woman he loved? What kind of man would abandon his lover in their time of need? What kind of man would shun the only person who ever cared about him?

Not a man. A child, a brute, an animal, but not a man.

He thought ashamedly of the things he said to her, of the heartless ways he scorned her. It became painfully clear to him that he rendered every promise he ever made to her completely worthless in the past week. The only option he had was to fall down at her feet and beg for forgiveness.

But it was late. The mage should have already come and gone. She should be asleep.

_She should be asleep in my bed beside me._

His mind was made up. He would go to her, asleep or not. If she was, he'd carry her sleeping body back to his cabin and be there to love her when she awoke, to brush the sleep and tears from her eyes and pledge his heart to her anew.

He stepped out into the night and felt the jungle wind rustle the feathers on his jerkin. The night was clear and serene, accented perfectly by the distant sounds of cicada, the glowing of an ample moon and a dazzling spray of twinkling stars. He stared at the favor around his wrist. It was a promise of sorts, one that he knew she had never broken, even in her year of solitude. If only he could say the same for himself. It was a familiar and wretched feeling.

Things were never easy for them, perhaps they never would be, but their love was built with blood and tears. _That is why it is strong -_ Fenris thought to himself, remembering his conversation with Lazarus, a lifetime ago.

_Asti avala femundis._

Then he walked right into her and their heads banged against each other. She fell to the ground with an "oof!"

"Hawke?" he asked, rubbing his forehead and extending his hand to help her up.

"We need to talk." they said at the same time, then "We do?" A smile tugged the edges of her lips and he led her silently back to his cabin, closing the door behind them.

"Hawke..."

"Please, just listen." she said, taking a step toward him and then looking down at his feet. "I've been a complete moron, Fenris. I'm so sorry for subjecting you to this emotional limbo of my making. You deserve better."

He looked away. That he made her think she was undeserving of his love for even a second...it was heartbreaking, it was certainly never what he intended. "No."

"In my grief I lost sight of what was important. You were right. I was selfish. I should have been there for you. I should have been there for everyone, but especially you. I see that now."

His eyes flicked up to meet her gaze. There was an intense honesty behind what she said. She was bared before him, tattered and weary and more than a little worse for wear, but she was Hawke. _His_ Hawke.

"But I'm not going to cry about it anymore. If I need to prove my regret, let me do it with my lips and my heart and the rest of my life. I just want you. Forever."

"Hawke." he gasped and descended upon her, his mouth slanting over hers in fervor. Her lips were still cool from the night air and her legs were unsteady. He felt his own legs buckle at the weight of this feeling, saw his markings flare-up and shatter the darkness of the room for a split second. Heat lightning to augur the coming storm.

"Forgive me." she said, as if that were still in question.

"Only if you forgive me first."

She laughed and clasped lips with him again, his fingers weaving through hers at her side. One of them fumbled over her ring and he smiled into her kiss. He pulled away to admire it on her finger, running the pad of his thumb over the gem.

"Do you like it?" he asked. "I know it is a little unconventional, but it reminded me of you."

She beamed and kissed the corner of his lips. "There's nothing conventional about us. It's perfect."

"Then..." he paused, dropping down to one knee before her and staring up into her cerulean eyes. Blue, blue, impossibly blue like atmosphere and ocean and lyrium. The words came to him as naturally as his affection for her. "Then never take it off. Promise yourself to me, forever. Marry me."

She fell into his arms. "Silly man, I already said yes, didn't I?"

He laughed. "Perhaps I just wanted to hear it again, without the crying and the mouth full of blood."

"No tears or blood yet, but the night is yet young. My answer is still yes, by the way, in case that wasn't abundantly clear."

There were things he wanted to express to her that had no words in any tongue he knew. There were shadowy places darkling deep in his heart that were illuminated with her sheer presence. There were emotions he couldn't wrap his head around that only amplified when her eyes met his across the room or when she said his name. He belonged to her in every sense of the word. She belonged to him, too. He did not need to marry her to prove a point. It was a symbolic gesture, an official acknowledgment and renewal of promises he made and always resolved to keep.

He traced her lips with a solitary finger. "This time I mean it. For whatever may come, I am yours. Only death will part us and only if it can catch us."

"Damn." she sniffed. "There's the tears. Sorry, it's been an emotional week."

"You've cried enough over me." he said softly, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. "My intentions were good, misguided as they were. I hurt you, and for that I am eternally sorry."

"Make it up to me." she demanded.

He did not know what kind of life they would have. Their continued existence was always in question and there was no shortage of people who were eager to take it from them. He did not have much to offer her besides himself, but he meant to give her that as thoroughly as possible, in every sense of the word.

"The night _is_ yet young." he smirked.

He laid her down on her back and knelt between her knees, lowering himself down to her lips for another deep and needful kiss. She emitted a feverous heat between her legs, like a furnace against him. The sighs she billowed into his mouth already turning into moans and grunts of demand.

Her shaky fingers trailed down his bicep and lost their way down the front of her soft breeches, her eyes growing soft and hazy. Her teeth scraped gently over the skin of his throat, calling forth a growl from deep in his chest. He grasped at her wrists and pulled her fingers from inside her, bringing them to his lips to suck away her sweet flavor. She whimpered at this, her eyes snapping themselves shut and her back arching into him.

He undressed her slowly, watching the hill of leather and cloth pile up at their side from the corner of his eye. She trembled as his fingers kissed flesh, her nipples hardening into stiff little peaks for him to taste. She was at once the same woman she'd always been, the only woman he'd ever allowed himself and the only woman he'd ever wanted, but she was also someone else entirely. He realized with shame that he never noticed the jagged white scar on her ribcage, or the way her breath turned into sharp hisses of desire when he kissed the inside of her thighs, the way she clawed at his hair when he came close enough that she could feel his breath on her slit. It felt like he'd never seen her before tonight, never experienced her scent or the color of her dark hair against her creamy skin. He did not know if it was she who was different, or if he was, but it was better, so much better.

He sank his face into her folds and she keened, her nails scratching over the wooden floor and then coming up to pull at her own hair. His cock jumped and pressed uncomfortably against the ground as he drank her, sucked at her like he half expected her to melt away and evaporate.

"Shit." she said, but it wasn't a complaint.

He curled his tongue around her pearl. He washed her with his tongue, salivating until almost overflowing from just one taste, one scent of her. There was a lake building in her, sluicing and dripping down into the floorboards from his chin. She could drown him if she wanted to, fill his lungs with her essence and he would die a sweeter death than ever he could ask for. One lonesome finger sought her entrance, trailed along the join of her thighs and pushed into her. She bucked into him, into his lips and stamped her nectar onto his chin, leaving her tangy flavor upon him.

Another finger, another lick, and a hand trailing up her torso to tweak at her nipples. She was quickly unraveling on his tongue. She pawed at his hair with both hands, then began stroking his ears in an obscene manner. Obscene in how good it felt to him, considering it was only his ears. He did not know how much more he could take of that, lest he forget his purpose and find himself tragically lost inside whatever orifice he could most easily access. That was not what he wanted at the moment. He wanted to taste her and give her the satisfaction she desired.

Her legs began to tremble, her breath coming shredded and sharp from her quivering lips. His name tumbled out, followed by some rather choice vulgarities. Her thighs clamped shut around his face, trapping him among her lush petals. She came like an eruption, like a catastrophic event on his tongue, spasming and panting and gasping for air, and then she was heavy and soft and waiting for him.

He climbed his way back up to gaze into her eyes, her pupils thick and darker than he remembered, surrounded by a thin, startlingly blue band. She kissed him, reveling in her own scent and taste while her fingers grappled with his laces. "I love you." she said, climbing onto him.

"I love you." he answered, but he ached for her warmth like he'd never had her before. He could no longer see quite straight. "Please..."

She perked up an eyebrow at the request. "Oh, I like the sound of that."

"Oh?" he asked with interest, wondering if he should indulge her. So far, their bedroom activities usually involved explosive power struggle, or a fair amount of give and take. In the end everything was equal and never disappointing. He found out very early on that she was reluctant of ever being completely dominated, but until now she hadn't openly expressed an interest in taking the lead, he assumed she preferred their egalitarian passion. "Interesting."

Her fingers grappled with his laces. "I'm not going to lie, the idea of taming you drives me absolutely mad with desire."

"Is that so?" he smirked, leaning back on his palms to watch her work. "You are certainly welcome to try, though I cannot attest to my ability to be bridled. Many have tried."

She grinned in a way that read "Challenge accepted."

xxxxxx

Her fingers hooked under his waistband and tugged his leggings down around his ankles, releasing his cock to the tepid air of the room. He was already harder than he could ever recall being, his erection itself a pleasantly painful exertion. She crawled on top of him and laughed as he thrust toward her warmth, and she cruelly denied him her sweet traction.

Instead, she bent to grate her teeth over his chest, purposefully chafing a deep marking with just a little too much fancy. He let out a hiss between his teeth and dug his fingers into the taut flesh of her arms, muscled from years of carrying a weapon bigger than herself. It was not exactly a complaint.

"Hmm." she hummed approvingly, repeating her little experiment. He rasped out a groan and rolled his hips at her, eliciting a chuckle from her in response. She ran her tongue over the sensitive flesh, pinked by her teeth. He tingled all over.

"Pleasure yourself." she said.

"Is that a command?" He did rather like her sudden authoritarian streak, wherever it came from, but he would be remiss not to give her a hard time about it. He had always been a spirited slave, and as he recalled, she never failed to do the same when the roles were reversed.

She snorted and drew her face close to his, her tongue laving over his earlobe gently and then pulling away to look him full in the face, her eyes suddenly severe.

"I said pleasure yourself, Fenris." she said again, wrapping her fingers around his throat. There was a break in the darkness of the room as his markings flashed again and he strained against the fingers on his windpipe, not enough to strangle, not enough to harm, just enough to humiliate him and make him pulse with desire. Her lips turned up at the edges in a wicked smile. The idea of her watching him masturbate coaxed heat into his face and ears and - much to his surprise - more blood into his swollen length, a drop of moisture beading at the end of him.

"As you wish." he said, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as he spat into his palm and took his cock in hand.

He built a pace. At first, it was slow to give her the show she wanted, but it wasn't long before he became eager for his end and forgot to make it pretty for her. His strokes were angry and candid and raw, his mouth gaping open and his eyes rolling back and her clutch remained on his throat the entire time. He touched himself the way he would touch himself if he was alone. He could not bring himself to care how it looked.

There was something to be said about the casual interest she displayed at seeing him so desperate for release, the way her eyebrow quirked gradually upward as he rubbed himself near to completion. The tender bulb on his cock wept for climax and any sort of affection at all from her, really, and was only further incensed by the denial.

He raged as she plucked his fingers away at his very edge and pushed him to the ground, pinning his hands behind his head. He let loose a barrage of Tevinter curses and insults at that and could only glare at her callous laughter. He'd never seen her like this before. He was unsure if he should be angry or turned-on, but he was both, simultaneously.

"No better than an animal." she snapped. "Look at you, baying for release like a hound with a bone! But you suffer beautifully, don't you, my Fenris?"

He growled and he truly did feel like some kind of beast, some feral, lowly thing that howled for its mate just as easily as its next meal, devoid of anything but its own bestial urges. All blood that did not sustain him rushed into his loins at the degradation. Only Hawke could demean him and still make him ache with need. Perhaps it was because he knew it was a farce.

"_Irrumabo._" he whispered, just loudly enough for her to hear. Suck my dick.

"No, I don't think I will." she said, scratching down the front of his chest and stopping at the base of his cock. He forgot that she acquired a little Arcanum of her own, mostly swearwords and dirty-talk. "Besides, I think you love this, don't you? You want me to use you like a toy, don't you? I am only happy to oblige." she purred.

She guided him into her depths until he was baptized by her. He tried to reach up to caress her cheek but watched her swat his hand away. He couldn't help but laugh at the glint of mock-fury in her eyes. _Does she really think I will submit so easily? Am I meant to be frightened?_ He pushed his hips up and into her in challenge, letting a surly smile flick over his lips. _Do your worst._

This did not please Hawke at all.

She crashed down into his hips, hard, and the grip on his neck became tighter. They clapped together at the connect. She bared down onto him and white stars sprang into his vision. Pleasure augmented by pain and too much pleasure crested over him in waves. He never knew he wanted this so badly, to have her take what she wanted.

He parted her and slipped a finger into her folds to joggle her clit. All that existed was Hawke's pleasure, the sounds she offered as reward were so sweet and beautiful, they were almost unbearable.

She was slick, so slick and so warm and yet her eyes bit at him fiercely. Such glares would crush him if it weren't for the irresistible drag inside of her, betraying her menace as nothing more than a role. Hawke was always a safe place, even in this storm, and there was something empowering about the ability to relinquish his control to her freely. Well, perhaps not freely, she would have to work to tame him, but willingly, yes.

She finally let go of his throat and he sucked up all the oxygen between them, unsure if she would take it from him again once she got what she desired.

xxxxxxxx

"Say my name." she demanded.

"Hawke." he grated, forgetting for the moment his dignity and his innate need for rebellion. He wanted only to feel her contract with bliss around him, to see her eyes roll back and to usher her into euphoria, yet again.

"No." she said, leaning toward his face, her breasts pressed into his chest, her breath puffing hard over his lips.

_"My first name."_

The room became piercingly white and she blurred at the edges. She was an otherworldly being, awash in the glow of the Fade or another place too sweet and soft to be the world of the living. He quaked at the sight of her, dark and lovely to contrast the painful brightness of this dimension, like an angel, like a harbinger of ecstasy.

He surrendered.

"Marian." he said, his voice cracking and tears building in the back of his eyes. She couldn't possibly know what this meant to him, for how long he hungered to taste her name in his mouth. It was like a release in and of itself.

"Marian." he chanted again, savoring the way it rolled off his tongue. _Marian_ like butter and honey and wine to whet his lips. _Marian_ like violins and birdsong and a dulcet hymn for his ear. _Marian_ like frisson and kisses and climax. _Marian_ his everything, and only his.

"_My_ Marian."

He detonated like a lyrium bomb inside her.

There were more words he tried to say, "love" and "forever" and "fuck!", but the only thing he knew in that second was her name, a fruit he'd long been deprived the nectar of. He broke in the middle and arched forward, capturing her lips with his, still pumping his seed into her, squirt after glorious squirt. She pulsed around him, sharing his rapture. Loudly, at that.

When finally they were both sated, she threw her arms around him, and smothered him in an assault of the sweetest kisses, enough to make his heart ache, all trace of malice gone from her eyes and voice. She was his Hawke again, benevolent and soft and loving.

"Good?" she asked, joining her fingers with his and kissing each one of his calloused fingertips.

He grinned into her throat, taking in her scent. "You were there, weren't you?" She huffed and he gave her a breathy chuckle. "I am not certain there is a word in Common to adequately describe how 'good' that was. If there is, it escapes my vocabulary." She sighed with relief. "You have wanted to do that for some time, haven't you?"

"I have." she admitted.

"You need only ask." he said. "There are few things I would not be willing to try for your sake."

"I was worried it would make you upset."

"Upset? For what reason?"

"You were a slave."

"Yes, I was a slave. I was a slave to a cruel man who took but never gave, who caused pain but never pleasure. Consent never crossed his mind. It is not the same, Hawke. I never want you to worry about being like him. You are not." he caressed her cheek gently and smiled.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He nuzzled against her satin skin perfumed with sweat and sex. "I would say no, but a part of me worries you'll see that as another challenge. I am happy, will that answer suffice?"

"Happy?"

"Only when I'm with you." he smiled.

"I love you."

The game was long over. Hawke achieved conquest of her elf, but who the true victor was remained unclear. Eventually they crawled into bed, every muscle tired and sore from effort. He fell asleep coiled tightly around her, her name itching at the edge of his mind as they drifted through the Veil.

"I love you, Marian."


	43. Ready

**Anders gets last chapter again!**

**If you opened this link first, please be sure to read the epilogue as well. I know sometimes people don't see both. There will be a soundtrack listing, acknowledgements and sneak peek of Book Three afterwards. **

**Anders**

_It was the right thing to do_ - he told himself. So why did it hurt so much?

A part of him always knew she felt this way, knew that she resented him for the chaos he foisted upon her and the life he took away from her, but hearing it from her own lips was a different story. Even if she was only defending herself, it was still a crippling blow to his ego, already damaged beyond repair.

He crawled into the empty bed in the dark room and chased her musk among the sheets and pillows. The room would be vacant for the remainder of their stay in Seheron and the trip back to Tevinter. It could be his room if he wanted it, but he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore.

There were times when he foolishly allowed himself to hope that she still had some dwindling affection for him, that if she were parted with Fenris, she might find her way back into his arms. When Fenris almost died back in Qarinas, a little piece of him rejoiced inside, much to his chagrin. He believed for the space of a few moments that she would return, that he could comfort her and she would fall in love with him all over again. He would have a second chance, one where he wasn't plagued by demons and he could love her as she deserved to be loved.

There were even times - more than he cared to admit to himself - that he wondered if there was room enough in her heart for both men. He was no longer an abomination, after all. Perhaps he and Fenris could put their differences aside and share her. Perhaps it would even be _fun_ to share her. Perhaps he and the elf would grow to have some kind of endearment to one another. Of course, these fancies often diverged into less than tasteful musings and were followed by excruciating guilt, but it still gave him hope, a hope that was now snuffed out by all-encompassing despair.

That's why he had to keep convincing himself that it was the right thing to do: because the emptiness that consumed him as she left the room that night gave him nothing but doubts.

* * *

He should not have been surprised when he heard the news of her engagement, but it knocked the wind right out of him, his heart seizing up in his chest. She beamed and floated over to him, ring finger first.

He eyed the bauble and noted with misery that it was perfect for her. It was just the right color, just the right size, not dainty enough to detract from her fearsome demeanor and not masculine enough to detract from the beauty of her hand. He still had the ring he'd once given her so long ago, too late to indicate a promise on her behalf. He still remembered the sound it made as it hit the floor, as she left him alone to contemplate the unwelcome realization that she was no longer his.

Now, she would never be his again.

"Thank you so much, Anders." she said, throwing her arms around his neck.

He made a piteous sound in his throat, originally meant to be "anything for you, love." but it died on his lips. His unrequited attachment was nothing more than a thorn in her side, he imagined. It was a wonder she managed to tolerate him for this long.

Over her shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Fenris, watching the two of them embrace. The elf's head bowed subtly - so subtly that Anders wasn't sure if he imagined it - and the faintest of smiles curled his lips. _Was that gratitude? From the elf?_ Did he know about the conversation between he and Hawke the night before? He was _grateful_? Now Anders was nearly certain that his mind was playing tricks on him, but in case it wasn't, he gave the elf a lazy wave.

_It was not for your sake_ - he wanted to say - _If I helped you in the process, it was inadvertent. Still, I appreciate the acknowledgment._

She let go of him and drew back, her eyes glittering with tears of joy. "You're a good man, Anders."

He snorted softly. That wasn't what most people believed. That wasn't what she seemed to believed last night. At the very best, she thought he was weak-willed, and at worst, he was actively malicious. He nodded at her and grunted, not knowing what to say that wouldn't make her feel bad or betray his misery.

She patted him on the shoulder once more and made her way back to her elf. He curled around her possessively and said something to make her laugh, the deep timbre of his voice making it impossible to hear from the distance.

_At least, she's happy._

* * *

Two weeks came and went and they set sail again, riding on the tails of two dozen Qunari dreadnoughts, the wind at their backs. Anders watched Hawke smile as a breeze caught her hair up and tangled it in her face. She looked fiercely determined and yet almost amused by their new quest. Anders couldn't begin to guess why. This would not be an easy or quick victory even with the Qunari alliance. There was no telling what tricks the magisters had up their sleeves. It simply wouldn't do to underestimate them.

Eventually, she turned and startled at the sight of him, snapped out of her daydream and licked the salt from her lips. "Are you ready, Anders?" she asked.

In truth, he was frightened. Scared that he'd die and almost nearly as scared that he'd live. This was his purpose now; to go into battle and see them all through. It was a daunting task, but eventually it would have to end one way or another.

Hawke took a slow step towards him, her eyes glinting lightning and steel and just a hint of chaos. There were no doubts in those eyes. When she looked at him like that, he couldn't be afraid.

"I am." he said.

The verdant landscape of Seheron shrank in the distance. The red sun, low on the horizon tinged the ocean in soft pastels, pink and then blue with a full gradient of colors between them. It was a panorama too peaceful and serene to fit the mood.

The calm before the storm.


	44. Epilogue

**Plenary Indulgence theme: Break of Reality - Spectrum of the Sky /watch?v=zob5O3nyqYI**

**If you opened this link first, I posted the last chapter earlier. Be sure to read that first!**

**Epilogue**

At first, she thought her eyes deceived her, but upon further inspection, she could only find confirmation. The moon-colored hair, the tanned skin marked with white tendrils and lines to contrast, the eyes the color of her home that she could pick out even from the trees. There was no mistaking who he was, even with the strange new wardrobe.

Why he would willingly return to this place after what he did, she simply couldn't fathom. She'd taken him for a coward all this time. She almost pitied the beast once as he hid behind the coattails of his Imperial piglord master. If she was merciful, she would have leapt from the trees and slit his throat right then and there, years ago, before he could ever think to soil her island with his presence again. Then he would be dead and Tevinter would have had one less elven throat to collar.

Kataasha was not known for her mercy.

Then she watched him follow this strange woman into the pox-ridden city of skidmarks and dickless barbarian shitheads as though they owned the place.

She seethed, reaching for a dagger at her side. It would be so easy to kill him from here, to end his pathetic existence and disappear into her forest. She could forget about him, about what he did to her people or maybe she could watch the Qunari mongrels toss his corpse into the pile of refuse and decay that had been stinking up her land for longer than she'd been alive. She could watch the rats chew his innards and the crows peck out his eyes and know that justice had been served at last.

No, she wanted more.

She wasn't the only one who fell prey to his deception. All of them did. He grew on the entire tribe, his wretched tale of abuse made even more real by their own hatred for the deviants of Tevinter. She let her guard down. She even grudgingly came to have affection for the shitborn monster, admired him for his courage, called him friend.

_Weak. Pitiful little thing. _She cursed herself.

The ground beneath her rocked and swayed, gulls cried in the distance. She watched her beloved island disappear behind the horizon line through a window until it was too dark to see her anymore. This was the furthest she'd ever been from her home. Perhaps she'd never see it again. She sighed wistfully and swore to herself that no matter how difficult it was, she owed Seheron a death.

She curled herself up on her side behind some crates and imagined all the ways she intended to draw out Fenris' gruesome death. She wanted to watch him suffer the way her people did at his hands. She knew the scumdog was sleeping just a few yards away, blissfully unaware that he was now marked for death.

_Sweet dreams, Fenris._ She smirked to herself. _Tomorrow is the beginning of your end._

* * *

**Acknowledgements: **

I am so grateful for all the help and support I've gotten. I'm sure to leave someone out, but here goes!

Thanks to my beta **MzBlondie09** for taking time out of your busy schedule to help me hone my craft, and for corralling all those pesky commas when they get out of line. Also for letting me try out my plot ideas on you before I write them. You've been such a good sport, considering how huge an undertaking Plenary is, and your assistance has helped me become a better writer!

Thank you to **JenniferHawke** for letting me test my smut out on you. Okay, that sounded...wrong! Thanks for READING my smut before I send it off to my beta! Also for being my friend and being so supportive of me through the process. You're a wonderful person and as Jethann would say; just the perfect level of depraved. :-P

Thank you, **PaulaH and GJ** for helping me storyboard and for always being completely honest with your feedback, even if it's sometimes hard to hear, but you never present an issue without suggesting a solution, which is one of the many reasons I keep you around. That and you're hilarious! Your help has been indispensable, as always.

And finally, thank **YOU**! Yes, you! Anyone who is reading this. A Shink story is almost always a commitment and I feel so lucky to have gained your attention. Your feedback and your support has inspired me countless times, and it's the reason why I keep going. We've still got a ways to go, and I'd love to have you around for the last third of the journey.

**SPEAKING OF WHICH!:**

I will be taking a brief respite before I start Book Three, which still does not have a title. FOR SHAME! I've already begun to storyboard and such, but I want to finish some of my other stories (Flash Bastard and a kmeme fill I'm working on, which I'll begin posting here soon) before I start that.

I am looking for someone to commission cover art for Book Three (working title). If you or someone you know would be willing to do something for me, please PM me. I do not have much in the way of money, but I would be happy to acknowledge you in the description, link to your deviantart on my profile, and give you a spot in the acknowledgments. Otherwise, you all will be stuck with my crappy artwork!

**Sneak Peak (Man, too bad I can't make a trailer, that would be epic!):**

1. Book Three will be Romance and SUSPENSE. Though both Plenary and B&B featured a few nail-biters, I am going to pull out all the stops in Book Three. There will be massive cliffhangers, edge of your seat action, and I will not consider it a job well-done if at least one person isn't pissed enough to send me an angry rant about it! ::snicker::

2. I have gathered some input for _new_ potential POV characters, and I hope you will be pleasantly surprised with what I've come up with.

3. In true Shink form, I will be introducing a new OC for Hawke's team, since you guys liked Laz and Britta so much. I hope you will have strong feelings towards her as well.

4. Some people have rightfully expressed concern for my treatment of our favorite blonde healer, I promise to try and make up for it in the next installment.

5. Due to OVERWHELMINGLY popular request (Perverts! Just kidding, I frakkin' love you guys. :-P) there will be at least twice as much smut in the Book Three as in Plenary, and Fenris will get to dominate Hawke at least once. Don't worry ya'll, Shink's got you covered. ;)

**Soundtrack:**

**Plenary Indulgence: Break of Reality - Spectrum of the Sky **_/watch?v=zob5O3nyqYI_

**Fenris' Theme - A Patient Lover: E.S. Posthumus - Nara **_/watch?v=8AEU5pBxY6E_

**Fenris - Then I Shall Wait: Bowery Electric - Lushlife **_/watch?v=7e0dk7oUfvg_

**Hawke - No More Excuses: Bear McCreary - Passacaglia **_/watch?v=WSYPYq9D_No_

**Lazarus - [Py]Romance: Maybeshewill - Take this to Heart** /watch?v=uEdC4PwWihQ

**Anders - Not Quite Right: Massive Attack - Angel **_/watch?v=hbe3CQamF8k_

**Hawke's Theme - Duty, Pride, Shame: Metric - Blindness **_/watch?v=spqgpkobEh4_

**Lazarus - Fool's First Kiss: 65daysofstatic - Radio Protector **_/watch?v=CpEILvXQaZM_

**Anders' Theme - In Need of A Healer: Denali - Normal Days **_/watch?v=IwHc2Apyz34_

**Fenris - I Will Find You: Rob Dougan - Furious Angels **/watch?v=jtAmFKaThNE

**The Battle: E.S. Posthumus - Pompeii **_/watch?v=GusLypfx7OQ_

**It Must Be Absorbed: Epic Score - Siren's Call **_/watch?v=8NknmpdEEFI_

**The Sacrifice: Buckethead and Friends - Coma**_/watch?v=tbI8C_56g00_

**Fenris - Ghosts in the Slipstream: Perfume Tree - Virgin **_/watch?v=DmgOfZAdHiY_

**Fenris - I Prayed I Would Not Wake: Explosions in the Sky - First Breath After Coma **/_watch?v=w0o8JCxjjpM_

**Hawke - Don't Make Me Beg: Ambulette - If You Go Away **_/watch?v=_IGhixrqT1E_

**Fenris - I Am [Still] Yours: The Calm Blue Sea - We Happy Few **_/watch?v=dhhfk_1Pwhw_


End file.
